Stereotypical

I am one of four horsemen,

four seasons, four parts—

hot to the touch

(hot too much)

with sand that finds its way to your heart.

I have two kinds of waves:

one lovely, one sunny,

for surfing or tanning your skin;

for temps I am more

than the cold you desire to be in.

Don’t tease me,

don’t look me

in the eye,

for the summer is sun,

and in sun you’ll go blind—

don’t be mad,

just keep this in mind.

Think beach, think free,

think sunshine and bees,

but with these you’ve put me in a box;

I’m a lot

more fun

than a swim or a run

in the sand that rubs your toes ’til they’re hot.

I say I am summer

but don’t trust my word,

I’ve been known to be what I want:

a cool spring rain

or blistering pain

to replace the joy you assign to your jaunt.

I can mean you are free,

I can bring sun and bees,

but still,

I have a heart of my own;

If you’ll let me send you there—

to my special summer air—

I promise a little sand between your toes.