by Norma Martiri
Outstretched limbs shelter us
as we slowly sip iced tea.
Sweaty glasses compete against sweaty bodies.
Mango juice drips down our arms as the
familiar summer flavour bursts in our mouths.
The children squeal with cool delight
playing endless games in the spouting sprinkler.
The poor old dog sits in the dirt
panting, panting, struggling.
He listens to the friendly banter
hanging in the stifling air.
Then a sudden breeze wraps around us
like a cool, wet layer of pleasure
that at last offers welcomed relief.
Life is good under the mango tree.
Last updated April 07, 2011