Between Seasons..... Sheer Bliss.

 

Between Seasons....Sheer Bliss.

 

 

The fall has not yet become
the klutz who visits yearly,
that bungling itinerant artist,
hired by nature to brighten
a world of inhabitants who
mourn the passing
of lady summer.

Who will soon haphazardly
go stumbling through
the trees of endless greens,
and spill his palatte in splotches
over the leaves and bushes,
with pigments of yellow,
red and orange.

The air is still warm and sultry
as I repose on my hammock,
conversing with solitude,
the crickets all sleeping,
their back legs exhausted
from a night of revelry spent.

It is good to be a poet,
in the waning days of summer,
to be able to reflect back
on the glorious season spent.

The day stretches before me,
like a lazy cat on a sun dappled lawn,
with nothing to do but yawn
and watch butterflies dance by
in their multi-colored gowns.

My breakfast is to simply savor,
warm Buttercups with my eyes,
while raising a poetic toast to
Summers grandeur served,
set on earth's table draped
with Queen Annes Lace.

Morning glories trumpet my comfort,
harmonized with the songs of the birds,
as I lie face up, breathing
August of sweet air,
in a web of my
own making.

 

 

 

 

 

MFB III

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