8

Summer's tantrum is throwing itself against the metal roofing. 

She's hurling branches around in the yard. 

She doesn't want to go, it isn't time yet, you promised. 

With the top of her voice she protests. 

Slamming the air and rolling. 

Flashes of anger. 

The tears, the tears. 

And then done. 

The cooling and the calm. 

Collecting. 

The wreckage, the broken toys.

Still didn't change the sun.