Every street empty
If it weren't for the children
Pedaling their bikes down the road
You'd guess our city was deserted
People, smelling of chlorine
Slurping popsicles
Under the shade of trees
Bright golden sunrays
Beating down on the dry ground
Drought stiff grass
And humid air
Sleeping in past noon
And waking to the smell
Of burnt out fireworks
The day after
The Fourth of July
Ultra-violet rays
Burn through the atmosphere
Scorching
The mid-day wakers
Early risers find
Orange, yellow, pink, purple
Light beams through the blinds
Open them, these people
Are able to see
The sun rising
Like a rainbow in the East
