Dearest sun:
Your hue has softened —
The color of organic egg yolks,
Dipping below the tree line,
Hushing evening earlier each day.
Dearest crickets:
You chirp for your next mate, saying,
“Hey girl, come find your summer love!”
But your abundant song, for me, is a melancholy
Reminder: this season grows short.
Dearest morning:
You linger in night’s arms,
Tinting the air cool –
Leaving the grass dewy –
Knowing you’ll sleep-in again tomorrow.
Dearest flora:
You are bursting!
It’s true – your fruits of this season’s labor,
Ripening, bowing branches and vines –
The reason for the season.
Dearest summer:
Oh, the fun we’ve had!
Everything is better under your glow –
Everything transforms within your passion –
We have grown and bloomed, for you.
