The Coming Of Summer
After the rain, the street smells clean,
Fresh and washed, ready to dream.
The summer’s coming, the snow is gone,
The flowers are blooming, the birds are home.
The air smells soft, perfumed and light,
Becomes more that way into the night.
Endless long days, nights short and warm,
The time is right for love and charm.
The activities show after nine months to the day,
All the summer slumber babies born in May.
Comments about this poem (The Coming Of Summer by Alan Bruce Thompson )
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