Summer…

Summer is a movable feast
a season to be sure
whose timing varies depending
in which hemisphere
Northern or Southern you’re living
and as for length allotted
– every day at the Equator
or several months in the Arctic
how is the Summer at yours?

© Andrew Wilson, 2024

Over at dVerse Poets Pub, WhimsyGizmo aka De Jackson, challenges us to dance a Quadrille including the word “Summer” – a poem in just 44 words…

Frequently the woods…

Frequently the wood sare pink
wrote Emily Dickinson, fairly described
as transcendental romantic, I think
was she referencing blossom-time
when gaudy pinks and whites
to win the bees attention fight
that time when we remember
trees are but giant flowering plants
dependent on the tiny pollinator
to close life’s circle with their aerial dance
flowers followed in short order by the clichéd
thousand shades of green
my own favourite time to see
the thin veil delicately drawn
across the Winter-wakened trees
and as the leaves thicken
and take on Summer shades
each tree can be read from a distance
picked out from its companions in the glade

But wait – in Winter too
a palette of subtle colours
also distinguish each species
one from another
colours hard to pin down
from mauves and greys
to blues and nearly brown
and never black except
in solitary silhouette
and frequently the woods are pink

Written for dVerse Poets Pub where  the host is Björn Rudberg (brudberg) in LiveOpenLinkNightUncategorized