SUMMER’S NOT A LADY

So impatient with the Summer

Her sultry ways

Just blowing hot air

Instead of saying something real

 

Wet blankets draped across my back

And wrapped around my face

Can hardly breathe and I must

In order to interrupt Summer’s steamy words

 

She just won’t leave the premises

Knowing that there are plenty who welcome her advances

But year after year she brings her dog days

To torment us cat-loving souls

 

Not that Autumn’s much better

Swaggering through Florida, body temp 80 degrees

Teasing with a bit of after-dark coolness

That disappears in the heat of her afternoon breath

 

Winter is a bit more of a lady

She’s dressed in high heeled black boots

And a calf-length shawl, aloof from us all

Blowing down the leaves and acorns on semi-frigid nights

 

Rarely, but sometimes, I actually shiver

Wrapping up in a crazy quilt

Listening to her moan through the windows

But she’s gone so soon, doesn’t seem like 3 months

 

Then Spring is pirouetting through the mixture

Of sodden ceilings happy to discharge their load

As we wade through mud or dry sand or growing grass

Spring does wear some pretty purples and pinks though

 

But I mostly dislike Summer

She’s not my kind…

 

© 2014 ViataMaja, Laminas

 

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