Siesta at Zenith

WEATHER NOTES

SIESTA AT ZENITH

The heat of day is stark upon the waves

Crumbling to powder, braying into foam

Like powder cracked from hot and stucco walls.

The empty daylight stretches mid the crash

And sullen reverberation of the waves

Along the chalk-white miles of silent sand

Desert at noon and tremulous with heat.

Where are the bathers? Like the snails withdrawn

To pearly turrets, coils of hammock-dream,

Relaxed and tired as the scented sleepy wind

Curving the curtains, disarraying fronds

Of ferns in their pots, and willows lank as dream.