Summers Here

By John McMenamin

Hawthorns, arrayed in bridal dresses
Laburnums, golden, hanging tresses
Nature carpets secret bowers
A tapestry of coloured flowers.

Dandelions line the highway
Daisys cluster in the byways
Honeysuckle climbs the thorn and briar
Beauty grows in muck and mire.

Birds sing at the break of day
At last, cold winters gone away
Ferns spring up from rotten leaves
Swallows nesting in the eves.

Sunlight glints from panes of glass
Rainbows form on dewy grass
Rivers sparkle in the sun
The days are long, a time for fun.

In the meadow, new mown hay
Turns to gold, as children play
Butterflies, with fragile wings
Far away, the cuckoo sings.

Weeds and nettles in profusion
There’s beauty there, it’s not illusion
Natures beauty on display
On a bright and sunny day.

In the shady, leafy lanes
Swallows dart like fighter planes
The Mayflys born at early dawn
Dusk descends, it’s life is gone.

Bees hum in the sultry air
The Badgers sleeping in it’s ;air
Rabbits nibble lush, green clover
The lowing herd, the tired drover.

The air is full of tiny things
All gods insects, they got wings
Magic perfumes scent the air
The foal sleeps safely, by the mare.

The collies sleeping in the street
Contented snore, four stuck out feet
The crafty cat is in the shade
Witches eyes, of deepest jade.

Old men, who though that they were done
Get up with the morning sun
Dance a jig across the floor
The walking sticks behind the door.

Lawn-mowers, hum into the night
Got to get the garden right
Garden gnomes are placed with care
You just can’t put them anywhere.

Hedges trimmed, to neat perfection
The green house shimmers in reflection
Hose pipes spurt a rainbow arc
The magic of the singing lark.

Day after day, the sun beats down
The soil dries up, the grass turns brown
People starting to complain
“The sun gives m a wild sore pain”.

Temper fray, as day moves on
A hose pipe ban? “ah my poor lawn”
Wake up to the sun again
People praying now for rain.

No respite, the heat increases
Sheep are dying in their fleeces
Another day of endless sun
“To hell with this, it’s not much fun”.

Another day of searing heat
Perspiration, tired feet
No one wants to leave the shade
Ice cubes clink in lemonade.

The air is still, no wind or breeze
The leaves hang limply from the trees
Swarms of wasps invade the house
A hawk picks up a tired mouse.

Skin peels off a freckled back
Heat can cause a stroke, a heart attack
Sun burned children cry in bed
Ultraviolet rays on a baldy head.

People dream of snow and sleet
Wake up grasping in the heat
Open windows, open doors
Bare feet walk on red hot floors.

“To much, too much” the people cry
Not a cloud obscures the sky
Tar is bubbling on the road
The throbbing throat of an exposed toad.

Week after week, the drought goes on
Yellow patches on the lawn
Crops hang limply, scorched and dead
The sun goes down in a ball of red.

A crash of thunder in the night
Jagged lightening, blue and white
The heat waves gone, the rain pours down
Overflowing gutters, what a pleasant sound.

The air is fresh, the sky is grey
The scourching sun has gone away
Pools of water on the lawn
The weathers broke-the SUMMERS-GONE.

“Phew-What a Scorcher”

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John McMenamin's website
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