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.