The last poems of this summer

We seem to finally have broken the back of summer's heat. In celebration of evenings that are finally cool enough to sit outside, here are a couple of summer poems to say GOOD RIDDANCE to this past miserable, hot, sweaty, sticky summer...

770

Nature by trade -- a singer is
Of minstrel songs -- by day --
Her lyrics often lose the ear --
But not her melody --

At eventide -- she croons alone
With only few to hear --
Her music -- flees from chimney towns --
Just visits -- at the stair --

The morning -- is her overture --
Bright noon -- her symphony --
A ballad soft -- the afternoon --
The night -- her lullaby --

Her rondeau is not silent -- now --
Her waltzes still appear --
But none will read her posted bills --
And who will pay -- to hear --



782

A cloud marched down one summer’s day --
She stopped above my room --
She called me to come play with her --
To splurge the afternoon --

I cannot come, I said to her --
I cannot leave my chair --
You should not spurn me, said the cloud --
And left me cheerless there --

She curtsied shyly to the sun --
Please Sir, she said, to play?
The gruff but kindly gentleman
Said, Not till end of day --

I walked outside at sunset time --
Tinged purple -- touched with red --
There sun and cloud, in western skies,
Stole softly down -- to bed --