Isn't Summer Ending Early?
If leaves turn orange
to make humans cringe,
while Canadian winds
and thick snowy clouds
threaten all that's pretty:
isn't summer ending early?
If days lose the brightness
of sunshine over meadows
where lovers lay to dream,
how can lonely poets redeem
something lost in their rhyme:
would fantasy restore time?
If flowers start to droop
to make us a bit moody,
what is needed to cheer up?
Listen to that violin playing,
see a slim ballerina dancing:
she consoles hopeless Rudy!
If sad eyes look down, not up;
they are lost as a stranded pup,
will faith be strong enough to lead
them to God and restore their creed?
Isn't summer ending early?
Watch a frosted, trembling lily
at the mercy of the untamed wind:
would it sweep it away or be kind?
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