Thursday, May 12, 2011

silly summer rhyme

When the world becomes a droning, throbbing, whirling cage of sound,
which at nightfall swaps cicadas for the crickets on the ground;
When eighty is the morning cool and ninety is the shade
where dandelions shake their manes between the green grass-blades;
When smooth, browning skin is mottled with a hundred itching bites
from lying wait to watch the stars on humid, sweaty nights;
When afternoons are broken by a common, rumbling rain
of storms that roll to wax and rage, but swiftly, gently wane;
When your elbow drips sweet juices from the ripe peach in your mouth--
Welcome friend, to summer in the south.


  1. I can't wait to do summer with you! smile.
    Great work, dear!

  2. Stellar! Almost as beautiful as you! :)

  3. I see that the comments were lost on this when blogger crashed -- I love this poem, Millie, and it makes me think very much of you and your joy for life!