Wednesday, June 20, 2007

The Weather Continues Unpredictable

Summer is a fickle floozy, with her
white petticoats beneath her sky-blue skirt
proclaiming purity. Meanwhile, “Come hither”
she murmurs to the daisies in the dirt,
seductively stroking their tender heads—
then stomps on them with overcast and cold.
A tease, a trull, a trollop hopping beds
of poppy, coreopsis, marigold,
she’s not the girl who haunts our winter dreaming.
Sunburn, sweaty nights and tangled sheets,
dizzy days of perspiration streaming,
afternoons of asphalt-melting streets,
experiences I expect of summer.
Cool and cloudy? Scattered showers? Bummer.

5 comments:

steerforth said...

Another terrific sonnet!

Noone's ever written this before, I'm sure:

"A tease, a trull, a trollop hopping beds / of poppy, coreopsis, marigold"

said...

I love it; such a great metaphor. Spring is a tease, yet there is something unforgettably alluring (that unobtainable, transient quality) to the tease.

Linda Jacobs said...

Every word in here is just delicious!

Mike Mc said...

I like it, thanks.

tumblewords said...

How perfect this one is!