Season of Sweet Discontent

 

Summer pleasures are like flowers
Timed treasures that soon depart
Strewing petal-measured hours
Over gardens of the heart

Summer slips through our defenses
Weaves sheer wonder with its loom
While vexing and soothing senses
Leaf by leaf and plume by plume

Summer is a rush of roses
Rousing sorrow from its joy
As its dance of days composes
Longing’s dissonant alloy

Summer, sweet, ripe and delicious
Season of fulfilled desire
What then are these wayward wishes
In the embers of its fire

Ah yes, these are called September
Season of sweet discontent
As we wonder and remember
Where another summer went

© Janet Martin