Two more days of Summer left, and then begins our glorious and abundant Autumn, although, in spirit and school-year, it started several weeks ago. I thought that I would offer a parting bow and eulogy in the form of a poem, written some time ago for the then-long-awaited conquest of Summer over Spring.
Summer Touch
and hopefulness of heart,
when Summer works an elder spell
upon the icy art
that spent its silver in a rush
of riven frost and snow
to lay in sleep the rosy blush
of budding life, below,
but now, the glorious and green
awaken at the touch
of wild-spoken light, unseen,
as are the winds, and such,
that carelessly caress the hair
and set the grass at play
upon the loam, no longer bare,
no longer laid away.
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