As Music Takes a Nap

There are words for hot afternoons.
Smelted curdled birds too. They sing
still. Bee still. A flower thrills to the slack
wind, unspeakably immortal. Purple plays
its theme song loud and yellow gets
annoyed. There will be dances later
in the dark and damp if the dark and
damp decide to come. Evening release
remains two and a half forevers 
away. There are words for more
infinity. Are they inaccurate words?