Midsummer Poem by robert dickerson
Midsummer
Midsummer's awful knell-
the season hurries on, all gold,
feet never touching the ground.
The dragonflies bob over the great lawn,
dip, kiss their shadows, rise.
The great wave crashes, its waters hiss and recede
over the shimmering green
leaving wrist-watches and hour-glasses in the gloam.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
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5/10/2024 9:13:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
