Midday. And the sun would give up eventually - -
It was a hot ball of hate, impossibly far away - -
a god above its burning creation. Great Town
denizens all had different opinions about the sun:
why was it on so often, and must it heat so hard?
The rays of the orb were long in an impossible way,
and sharp, too. Everyone out not blessed by shade
was pricked. Stay long enough and the skin pinks
and blisters; your eyes go bad whether you stare
at the angry yellow dot or not. And the beams of
heat ray that bounce off a smoldering body, or
skip them entirely and scorch instead the earth itself:
these beams bake the city.