summer’s eve


I don’t remember Monday

Storm clouds roiling at night

Or Tuesday’s icy morning

Swan horn upon meadow’s flight

Then Wednesday and her north wind strong

Urging bow in sapling tree

Thursday’s ever growing days

That hopeful eyes shall see

In Friday’s sultry evening’s rest

Cicada’s rhythmic satisfied  sound

Saturday’s warm moonlit nights

To our hearts joy shall abound

I shall remember Sunday

The secrets of summer’s eve

Trusting in our Lord above

All sorrow thus shall leave.

(c) 2017 rickJstassi



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