In Ireland, Summer is a Female.

Summer is a female:

Her many moods

Driven by atmospheric pressure

And weather fronts from

Lands far away.

A build up of electricity,

Winds, sands from Saharan dunes,

Visiting currents shoving

Through domestic waters,

Putting her under pressure,

Disturbing her restful, quiet

Blue.

Bringing headaches, fatique,

Heavy, liquid air and churning tides.

''Hush'', she says to her wild children.

I will not let them linger.

I will scare them with my voice.

I will startle them with my hostility,

And we shall have peace.

Her voice echoes from above the sea,

Like boulders crashing together

Under bruised, angry clouds.

Sheets of rain lash dusty intruders,

Washing sands into rivers and

Stirring up currents, mixing them into

A nutricious planktonic brew.

Irritating pins of electrivity are neutralised

With her swirling breath.

Some hours later, she calms, irritation abated

And settles down to slumber

On the golden horizon.

*

Inspired by summer storms in Ireland.