Now comes new season for no good reason,
Indian summer days just made to tease ‘un.
Yes, fall has colors bright and slanting light,
Tempting playoff delights deep into night.
Autumn, withal, makes Pilgrim’s spirits fall
When acute shadows fall across the wall,
When closed window locks confine him in box,
And chill air’s knocks compel outrage of socks.
Angry scream then shatters midsummer’s dream,
Faces that beam when tasting night ice cream.
As weather wetter makes him wear sweater
He thinks swelt’ring days surpassing better.
Summer’s enwrapping heat cannot be beat:
Its freeing gift, the treat of naked feet.
Words © 2011 AtHome Pilgrim.
All Rights Reserved.
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Comments
I certainly got your disdain for socks from your sonnet, Pilgrim. Very chilling!
rated with love
Why do you slide down
to bunch around my toes?
Too cool for sheets alone now
But too warm for quilts
Make up your mind, autumn nights!
rated!
Jerry: "the golden shout of July and the humid hug of August"--well said! (Though our August this year was so humid as to be absolutely dripping. Didn't wish to be hugged by that!)
heron: Indeed, the absolute worst is the 4:30 darkness!
Tor: I'm with you--on Spring.
Candace: I think your summer was more difficult to endure than ours, and I'm happy for you that you're pointed towards relief. To each, as they say, his or her own.
catch: If I had a truly tropical heart, wouldn't I have some sense of rhythm?
Rom P: Your toes are remarkably stalwart then! I'm getting cold just thinking about them getting cold!
Shiral: Brilliant! Ha! "Itchy wool pedal prisons" is sooooo true!!
LL: Maybe that would be the answer!
Michelle: Thank you for saying such lovely things. To warmth!!
: )