She wore white cotton gloves to drive -
The steering wheel red hot inside
The car, although parked near a tree,
Caught in the sun’s harsh glare would be!
To protect the leather from the heat
A thick pile rug on every seat
Blast furnace warmth attacked our eyes
Full air-conditioning is wise!
For nearly three months heat prevails
Rain is rare – but never fails
To be a source of joy Down Under
Like desert rats we pray for thunder!
A different January is mine
Snow has no place in Southern clime
But extremes will always catch us out:
Skin cancer beckons – as does drought!
(c) Poet in the woods 2016