Ode To Summer

I had my first taste of summer on the weekend, and like Pete Doherty to a crackpipe, I want more. To hurry it up, I'm using the time-honoured meterological phenomenon - the poem.

ODE TO SUMMER

I love a sunburnt country,
But it looks better on me;
I can't wait to get to peeling
Like a paper-barky tree.
I love a whiff of Summer
With its humid, sweat-laced cheer,
And its promises of sticky fruit
And heat, and sun, and beer.
I love a Summer festival
With music, food, and arts
I love a sand-filled bathing suit
A-chafing 'gainst my parts;
I love to dress in tiny clothes
Appropriate for nought;
I love to spend a whole day
Watching cricketers play sport;
I love to sit near water,
Whether ocean, lake, or creek,
I love to barbecue things
Which were breathing just last week;
I love cicadas singing,
All ear-piercing and symphonic,
'Cause I'm f*cking sick of Winter,
And I want a gin and tonic.