A Pome a Day for a Year

Too right the Sun is blasting all the beef on the beach!
Summer time baby, SUMMER!
We got blues skies (endless cerulean visages hiding
the twinkliest black eternity)
and nary a cloud to be seen,
crispest chilled winds under
lights so powerful, your whole horizon
is that white door at the end.

Beef as far as the eye can see,
all kinds, all beautiful, all joyous
in the sandy dunes and lapping ocean
where we remember in primordial tones
about how we used to call that pacific place
a home.

Everyone carving out fiefdoms of granules,
castles as testaments of lordship,
baking themselves instead of a cake,
training and lifting and bettering,
they writhe, like a mass of euphoria,
sunbeams and mouthbeams,
collectively harmonious.