The sun shoots
Ray drops
Like bullets through
The clouds;
Coming at the speed
Of light,
Bathing our exposed world.

I can't slather lotion
On mountains, lakes and trees,
There's little to prevent the scorch
That's reddening our streets.

We're under hats,
We've covered skin,
The shade from leafs
Is growing thin.
The executioner's leaking in.

We live a greenhouse life
Beneath umbrellas,
On towels on sand;
We're being fried
On the land;
Stirring the ***
With  sun-cracked hands.