Bewitched

You say it's summer,
But all we have here is the rain,
Endless dreary days, but we don't complain
The cool weather is a relief from the baking sun
This sight so dear,
This sight so rare,
In urban cities paved in tarmac,
In glass skyscrapers, overbearing, so cold.
Lay back and dream,
Feel the wind whip through your hair,
Stream the soil between your fingers,
Dig in bare toes and wiggle.
Scream for the beauty of a sight, unattainable.
Does the sun shine brighter in far-far away?
Or are we bewitched by tricks of lighting?