Summer

Summer donned her green party dress.
You know the one.
Long and slinky
with the spaghetti straps,
and edges hemmed in Queen Anne’s lace.
She’s looped her slender neck
with a dozen daisy chains.
She whispers in the rustling leaves.
She hums in the buzzing of the bumble bees.
She sings in the voice of the Meadow Lark,
and grumbles in the voice
of approaching thunder.
Golden clouds of monarchs
envelop her
as she goes cavorting
in the once silent meadow.
“She’s here! She’s here!”
the poppies proclaim,
blushing pink as bubblegum,
She scoops up a young rabbit,
and kissing him on the top
of his fuzzy brown head,
she waltzes barefoot
through the waving green grass.
Let the celebration
finally begin!

© Copyright 2017 chickpea a.k.a. Patricia Syner (chickpea at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.

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