Dog Days of Summer

The porch swing hangs heavy.

The potted plants sigh;

But none is so hot or

So weary as I.


The music of crickets,

The buzz of the fly

Is droning unanswered

Tired and dry.


The sun on the garden

Has dried every leaf

The vines are all withered

Gone summer’s feast.


The Queen Anne has faded.

Is no longer white

All life waits in stillness

For coolness of night.


We watch for the promise,

Of color on trees

Of pears and of pumpkins

To come with the ease,


Of cooler and wetter

Oh, welcome relief

From dog days of summer

The satin cerise


Of summer’s late sunsets,

Those guarantee all

The geese winging southward

God sending us fall.

“All flesh is grass, and all its loveliness is like the flower of the field. The grass withers the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; The grass withers and the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.”

Isaiah 40:6-8


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