July Sweetness

July comes in a candy wrapper
so sweet my teeth hurt,
so sweet that June seems sour
and August looks savory.
July mornings spin clouds of sugar.
I reach out and pull handfulls 
from the sky,
melting into nothing on my tongue.
July noontime sun
softens the beach dunes
into brown sugar
burning my soles
as I sprint for the surf.
Children shape it into castles
and the sweeping waves 
dissolve it into molasses.
July afternoons I sit in
geometric shadows
and watch goldfish glide
in tanks of blue raspberry slushies,
their bubbles rising to the surface
slowly in the thick syrup.
July evenings, the sun floats
like a drop of honey on the horizon,
clouds swarming like pink and orange bees
as the sugar soaks into 
the New York mountains.
July is overwhelmingly sweet –
31 candies to be unwrapped
and we all lose ourselves
indulgently
like children
in a candy store.