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]
