Summertime

Sydney in Summertime, humid and hot,
The pace of life slackens, an occasional smile
Flickers from a stranger -
Warm weather makes people friendly!
Cooling fans run amuck,
As women in layers of silk and synthetic,
Speak of 'escape to the coast, to the beach' -
The weeks of high temperatures
Too much to endure.

How ever do people survive when the weeks become months,
In the Tropics to the North, six to eight months or more,
Of constant heat and humidity, no "cool changes" ever coming,
What keeps them going, why do they stay? .......

The freshness of the morning at sunrise,
Daybreak the best time of day
To exercise or labour when it's cooler.
Cold showers in multitudes,
Cotton clothes and meals on verandahs.
Cool offices, hot classrooms,
A sudden downpour on corrugated roofs
Roaring louder than the fans, and the teacher's voice.
And the croaking of toads and bright green frogs
Deafening all.

The rain sweeps out from the towns to the surrounding fields,
Beating at the sugarcane, tall and green,
With purple feather tops in season,
Dropping down onto the ground, into the soil,
Wetting the soil, increasing the humidity,
Promoting growth.

The rain stops, the sun returns,
The heat and moisture in the air intensify,
The people wilt, take another cold shower
But go on with their work.
They know that a hot, wet summer means wealth,
That sugarcane and cotton, mango and paw paw
Need this humidity and high heat to grow.
So hot weather has a purpose here,
Is not a mere passing inconvenience,
A few weeks of enervation.
It is a way of life.

And when Australia is far away, It is not a city they will miss,
Or the Outback brown or red, But the waving fields of cane,
Dark green of the mango trees, Green frogs and pounding rain
The heat and humidity of summer, Will be almost forgotten.