The Modern Mrs. Doesn’t believe in summer– No bikinis here.
My weatherman is An honorable liar He promised me rain.
The summer cooked me — A smooth, broiled potato. Eat me if you will.
The bees are hungry But blossoms don't bloom in drought And I crave honey.
The shaved ice vendors
Have become the summer’s cool, Shady characters.
6. The weekend cowboy’s Pressing business out of town Left her eating dust.
The fine summer sand That stole home in your sneakers Kisses your toes in fall.
Seasonably mild, The farmer’s Almanac lies! Fodder for compost.
We have all the sun But you have all the water Cousins, parched and drowned.
Hurry up and wait: The migrating hummingbird Promises autumn.