Sun Worship
It’s the first really hot day of July.
I am stretched out on my orange
parrot beach towel on a neon pink
lounger; you are sprawled
in your electric blue canvas chair.
Through strokes
of coconut lotion, we are
slowly turning red, encased
in glistening layers of sweat.
The purple petunias
are wilting, petals spread wide,
the white rose quivering
and translucent.
A spider
suspended in its glowing web
is a tiny angel made of light.
Even
the shadows are brightening,
reflecting a wash of cobalt blue sky.
We are not used to the heavens
becoming so much a part of us,
all of us opening, opening
even though it’s almost too much
to bear.
Lucy Whitehead writes haiku and poetry. Her haiku have been published widely in various international journals and anthologies, and her poetry has appeared in Barren Magazine, Black Bough Poetry, Burning House Press, Mookychick Magazine, and Twist in Time Literary Magazine. Her Twitter handle is @blueirispoetry.
