Thin Blue Blood

July 3 2015

The colour of winter is blue

the cold end of the spectrum.

Translucent ice

and high transparent skies,

moisture, nearly wrung dry

molecules almost at rest.

While the hot extreme of light

is summer’s yellows and reds.

Waves of heat

rising off the pavement

that has baked all day in sun.

Asphalt, visibly softening

metal too hot to touch.

You could fry an egg, but why bother

when thirst consumes your thoughts.

Fresh cold water.

A tall clear tumbler

beading-up with sweat.

The clink of ice

the glug as you swallow

the long satisfied "ahhhh".

Go ahead, wipe your mouth with your sleeve.

And the cool glass, a healing balm

held against your skin.

Burnt neck, slapped cheeks

shoulders mean and blistered,

nearly as red as the meat

grilling to a cinder.

Sure is hot, he says

mopping the sweat from his forehead.

The same guy

who in winter offers the rhetorical

cold enough for ya?,

gleefully intoned.

Your thin blue blood,

shivering, even to think

revelling in the heat.