Heat of the Summer

Hmm. Buzzing warmth and lazy sounds.
Not caring to move much, for the heat
only moves with the wind.
It doesn't dissipate.
Heavy branches and heavy bees swing
in syrupy air, eased aside.

The heat of summer pours into
the windless clearing in the coppice;
marked contrast to the
air-conditioned office.
Fierce light, and deepened shadow
dapple patterns on the pathways.

Like bubbles in a somnolent river,
sun hats and jackets over shoulders
meander down the tarmac
'twixt browning grassy banks.
Slow, reflective conversation
is the voice of the lunch-time tide.