The Sting of Summer

All bold and golden, you push away the morning chill,

and roll out green carpets.

Adorning trees with weighty blossom, so bees can have their fill.

Casting hot rays to ripen fruit for market.

You’re a languid soul, bent on slowing us down.

Granting more time to linger in extended dusk,

to once more feel our bodies lithe and brown,

to relive the burgeoning of our youth and lust.

On morning sands gulls swoop and sing,

suspended in your thermal lift.

Their freedom cry’s a subtle sting,

in memories that glide and shift.

When out there on the crest of diamond waves,

old eyes must sigh, recalling better days.

(Thanks for reading my first attempt at a sonnet - any appreciation is gratefully accepted)