Heatwave

I leave early for work, to get to the beach. I start each shift tacky with salt, and my head full of sea pictures; the green weed wafting, the crab shell rolling, the sand eels flicker-flicker.
If we trek to the land we do that early too.
I dunked Old Dog in a bath of rainwater which she calmly tolerated. The next time we brought her, she stood by the bath waiting to be cooled off; not excited by the new trick, just forbearing.
Afternoons are for naps and ice cream. If we get it right our brains don’t boil over, they simmer and ferment.
Days and nights are like the sand eels, they flicker-flicker.
The moon rises tiger-orange, while the sun oozes down.
Travelling homewards, sunlight stripes a tree tunnel, lights up trunks like embers like I’m driving down the throat of a fire-breathing beast. 
Sleep pulls heavy, stealthy, sneaking in.
We dream in silver we dream in gold.
Morning arrives in birdsong, settles into a mug of coffee.
I leave early for work.
I swim. I write:
Diamonds are ten a penny
Floating on the skin of the sea
I wear each wave as a voluminous dress
Trailing foam lace
My laughing is like
A renewal of vows.