Sweet Summer
To thrushes’ serenade at blush of dawn
and with the blooming of magnolia trees,
sweet Summer wills the sun to smile upon
the meadow flowers scenting morning’s breeze.
Sometimes she’s mellow; other times she’s bold.
She’ll sizzle, yet she’ll soothe with wind’s embrace.
She’s strawberries, fireflies and marigold.
In azure skies, she plants a rainbows’ grace.
Then drawn-out days at last come to an end.
Persimmon sunsets disappear from sight
when shadows creep and into darkness blend,
but her bright stars can light the blackest night.
I still recall how all my cares were flung
when she came. Oh, to be once more so young!
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