A Sonnet in Need of Summer

Ryan Johnson

 

For corn-crisp breezes
and honey-light curtains of warmth
I patiently wave along the gaudy parade
of blooms and greens pungently starched.

A sultry thunder clacking storm floats
on clouds wrangled from the East, and I
count double-time for the sacred
lull of a season bellyful, shade sleepful.

Choired by the locust hum, the backyard pecan
will whispersing a rhythm of silky tambourines,

A Beat I Can
move to, tap toes to,

close eyes to,
sing songs to.

 

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