Thursday, June 6, 2013


Sometimes seasons are illusory, mis-named.  So.  Sitting here in the warm pretending it is summer.

I pretend
It is summer.
If I sit inside
Crank up the heat,
Gaze at the flowers,
Listen to the cardinal
Through the closed window,
I can almost lull myself
Into summer thoughts,
Picture a hammock
A tall iced drink
When the clouds clear
The sun emerges.
I will not need
To water the new plantings.
The morning rain
Has taken care of that.
I pretend
It is really summer.
I note the calendar,
Make summer plans
In the warm house
Listen to birds
Through the closed window.

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