Summers Come, Summers Go

Oh, how we ached in thechill of December

For the sultry swoon of summer’sdays,

Where time is a turtlefree of his shell

Floating soft on holiday.

 

And fragrant fields andmeadows yield

A sensory boondogglement,

As air stands still uponthe hill

And summer rains areheaven-sent.

 

Away you probing questionmarks.

Away you wicked doubtsand fears.

How dare you bore upon mydoor

Now that summertime ishere?

 

Tis only playful summer’sguests

Can enter here, can poundtheir chest

And dance the dance offolly’s fool

Until the sun sleeps inthe west.

 

But even summer runs herscourse

As autumn bites upon hernape,

And the turtle waitsinside his shell

To taste the wine ofsummer’s grape.