Heatwave

The park is dying.
At this time of year, the grass should be tall and green and full of vitality
But the relentless heat has shrivelled it to yellow straw, and it lies half-dead on the cracked and dry soil
The water fountain is not laughing. It has been cut off to save water and its ponds gape up at the sky, panting for a drink, desperate and thirsty
The pigeons have fled, down to the river, where at least they can cool their wings and the water still flows, even if it is only a sluggish trickle
Above the ground, the air shimmers, as though even the oxygen is boiling
You can feel the heat with every breath – it burns your lungs and scorches your temples
There is no wind. In the houses, every window is thrown open, hoping to coax in a loving breeze… but the swings in the park hang lifelessly with no wind to push them around
You can feel the pressure in the air. It feels like a mighty weight on your chest, pressing on your heart, sitting on your lungs

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s