Sere

Still here, it's sere - that long, dry season through September. 
So much sun it's dreary, where's my power to stay pale?
Here's my parasol, I have plenty. Start a fad and stay inside.
In my bag I have a blue one, in all I must have twenty
pretty and practical parasols to protect me from a tan.

Tan, like the grass on the hills now,
tan, like the hide of the deer,
tan like the legs of my neighbor,
tan, like the length of my lawn.

Pink and pale blue and deepest green
let me dream.
Coming soon to a hillside near you.

They teased about a rainshower coming in a week or so.  I don't believe it.  A wet October would be wonderful though.