Requiem For The Summer Of '15.... Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr
Requiem For The Summer Of '15....
Th' season of crisp-leaf discharges Summer's pass,
yet, still... th' child clings to August's greener path;
of barbeques, wood picnic tops...pools and swings;
th' transition from deck to desk...boat to book
depression... how it stings,
'as times hand moves Summer closer to dying.
Th' Artist by th' shore.....paints his nautical picture;
his presence afront th' wave's become...tides fixture,
views his slick canvas spread....of a sunsets descend,
another sign, Summer's time.....is drawing to an end;
I hear th' sound of young children, an Artist sighing.
Tell-tale label's on display, for th' human eye to rue;
Summer's song of lemonade to Autumn's cider tune;
hedges of cherry 'n ochre seem a wee crisped, 'n dry;
bearing, th' earmarking's of Summer's last goodbyes,
for, it is th' Artist that knows best; Summer is dying!
Trading Nature's Majesty, for days so much shorter;
hearing 'th sound of children and artists...... sighing,
for, it is the Artist that knows best; Summer is dying!
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Frank J. Ryan, Jr.
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All rights reserved
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4/25/2024 7:32:53 AM # 1.0.0.1119
In temperate zones, where 4 seasons are distinct, the passing of summer is perhaps the saddest transition. Winter to spring brings hope, fall to winter is gradual and leads to the holidays, spring to summer is somewhat subtle, but summer to fall marks a sort of end. Less daylight, back to school, vacations over, winter around the corner. The best behind. Like the analogy of seasons to age of life. (Except another summer will come) . It's 85 degrees here today and only a week til the equinox. Goodbye summer of '15.