buzzing bees
skinned knees
ice pops
belly flops

Lying earth-to-back in the cool tickling grass,
with ants and spiders scurrying over human overpass,
gazing through the trees’ leaves,
waiting for a soft breeze.

Inhale the moment.

The sky smiles down with a dazzling blue;
long lazy days stretch before us —
this, our piece of forever.

(Wiser heads know
in four short weeks
tedious heat,
dry earth,
persistent whine,
hot breath
and
over-familiarity
will breed
boredom
and restlessness
and short tempers
and tired skin.)

But for now
we are young.

Freedom,
butterflies
and lungfuls of lilac
bubble up in glorious joy.

**************************************************************

Grace is hosting Open Link Night at dVerse, so I thought I would (finally) post my  Summer Starter from Tuesday night which was hosted by Walter J. Wojtanik.
The poem above was inspired by Summer In The South by Paul Laurence Dunbar. (Can you find his line?  I think it is rather easy.)

While it is actually winter here in the Southern Hemisphere and we have recently come through a very hot and dry summer, one of my favourite poems comes to mind:

Late Summer 

I, dusty and bedraggled as I am,

Pestered with wasps and weed and making jam,

Blowzy and stale, my welcome long outstayed,

Proved false in every promise that I made,

At my beginning I believed, like you,

Something would come of all my green and blue.

Mortals remember, looking on the thing
I am,
that I, even I, was once a spring.

C S Lewis

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