Contributed by Nan Potts
When summer comes
It brings with it
Green scenery and such.
That if you pause to look at it,
Charms senses with its touch.
Yes, summer awes
With beauty, rare
In far-off northern climes.
To take it in doth overwhelm,
Is seen o’re million times.
With each new day
The darkness wanes
And dawn, a fleeting thing.
This midnight sun can cause one’s sleep,
Elusive and take wing.
How can this be
With summer here
To warm and ease our souls?
The sunlight seeps through black-out shades,
“Damn light!” a voice heard, tolls.
“The light! The light!”
Our neighbors cheer,
“It makes our gardens grow.”
Behind closed doors and curtains drawn,
“The light’s our sleeping foe.”
The sourdoughs
And natives, both
Know better than to whine.
No sooner does the summer start,
At Solstice it declines.
The days draw short
So quickly then
At nightfall’s swift return.
In long, cold-dark of winter’s murk,
Glum hearts for daylight, yearn.
Then once again
Sol reappears,
Unclenching winter’s jaws.
The light and warmth burst forth so fine,
Along with summer, “Aahs.”
