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by Elizabeth McCarthy

You’d think it would be enough 

just to see the birth of Spring

when lambs come out to play

and newly awakened trees unfurl 

their fresh green leaves

when wild crabapples blush pink,

blossoms alive with humble-bees

sending the sweet scent of optimism 

across fields of yellow dandelion

announcing the arrival 

of the fertile child of Seasons.

But, here in the Kingdom

where weather holds no promise

and blood thirsty black flies swarm,

just give me Summer

 on those buggy days in May!

[Elizabeth McCarthy lives in Walden]

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