Bring me the wrath of a 100 suns said this land to its maker and lo! A hundred suns it is.
Scorched, yellowed, smouldering goes everything the moment this sky lights up with a bulb more immolating than most places else.
Directly overhead shines the bloody thing; this planet in a sexual fury, opening its breasts thrusting its tits into the face of beloved sun so it can bake itself into an orgasm.
An orgasm it is, tsunami of solar flares kissing the northern hemisphere mounds with much affection and fury .
Yes, we are drying form their love.
End of lockdown but it's extended
quarantine day a joke
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