(if one could one would be here...however, since we cannot live on the beach we listen and look for songs not of the sea)
The whispered breezes faint in midday heat
No whisper strums the locks of flaxen wheat
The devious zephyr slips to cooler climes
A sultry hush noon’s panting quiet mimes
The milkweed staidly flaunts its purple crown
Queen Ann’s Lace weaves through garden’s dull and brown
No drought withers the glorious wild-bloom splay
Of red dead-nettle or loose-strife soiree
As ditches run, not with the warm spring show’r
But with the overflow of wandering flow’r
Too soon the howling gale will chill our cot
Too soon the bloom will fade into a sea
Of blue-gold days that never more will be
The orderlies of Old Man Winter wait
Beyond the pond, beyond the pale-cloud gate
While children bronze with leech and crayfish glee
Where green-pool cool forms childhood memory
We scan the rippling sky-line for a hint
Of rain to soothe earth’s pasture-land of flint
Spiraling sonnets drip from willow limb
Cicada-locust choirs drone a hymn
The green of June a brittle out-stretched palm
The oven of high-noon a hazy calm
The dog lays flat in dappled north-side shade
As does the cat; while we sip lemonade
Absorbing flavors rich with summer-lust
The heat, the hush, the ambiance of dust
Oh, drink the malted nectar of July
Too soon we hear its echo of good-bye
© Janet Martin
We are under a severe thunderstorm warning...thus the dead heat is actually spiked by vicious gusts of wind...
