Summer

The chariot drives a much slower arc,

Warming the earth with the strike of the hoof.

Branches that once were formerly stark,

Heavy with foliage scraping my roof.

My Spirits arise with the bloom of the sun,

Birds of all colors speckle my lawn.

Energy flowing were once there were none,

The gloom of the winter is finally gone!

Long stretches of time when the tired vegetables wilt,

Soil cracked like hands of the hard working man.

The clouds drive in like a team in full tilt,

Pouring the juice of the sky to the land.

Slowing the hustle, calming the mind,

Summer Herself is described as sublime.