It's Sonnet Time for the Summertime (or, I love the summertime - but not as much as I love you)

I used to mourn the passing of the summ'r. 

I’ve always been a warm weather person. 

But I've begun to embrace fall's coming -  

As I behold Abundant clouds, bursting sublime,

Rolling sloth-like over these hills of green.

The ev'ning air is noticeably heavy.

I think there is a poetry in that… 

Inviting Us to regroup and re-ground, 

As daylight and our work hours expire. 

Flights of fancy that the summertime would tempt Us to transforming into a newfound focus.  An open doorway to a more mature awareness.

A "put my money where my mouth is" type of mentality—even though my savings account might be a depleted one. 

Mama Nature challenging me to collect all the things I've learned in the past year-plus, harness them, and (re)build something truly new.  

Build Me anew. Filling myself with a "who the fuck am I about to be?" type of excitement, just as full of fear as pure potentiality. 

There is a part of me / who wants to keep turning these words into verse poetry / Letting a loose rhyme scheme or alliterative device do the talking for me. 

But no...  

Even at this very moment, I am learning how to let my prose be enough - which in itself is a Metaphor. 

Why must everything always rhyme anyway? Rhetorical question. 

Once upon a time, not all the lines rhymed. 

I guess, ABAB CDCD GG... is lost on Me.  

And there it is: one final rhyme for my

Belovéd sum-mer, sum-mer, summertime.

***

~OB.