When green grows bold and paints the land
with emeralds in verdant hand,
and mourning doves in cloaks of grey
lure shadows down from Milky Way,
you see it’s summer.
When peonies let loose their scent
in waves of summer sentiment,
and lilacs dab behind their ears
with French perfume to rival peers,
you smell it’s summer.
When watermelon drips in creeks
down saturated, pink-stained cheeks
and rhubarb tartly wraps itself
in pies and cobblers on each shelf,
you taste it’s summer.
When breezes tickle sun-tanned skin
and Sunshine hugs each friend as kin,
the grass grows silky carpet-down
and sand meets shore where toes are found,
you feel it’s summer.
When wrennish scolding shames the cat
from lurking where the nest is at,
and children’s cries of pure delight
rival fireworks at night,
you hear it’s summer.