Summer Season Blues

Summer is a season

That I enjoy for no real reason…

There are bees, and hornets; wasp galore

Who turn the outdoors into a battlefield chore,

The air is stale, peppered with smog

But when it gets humid, we sweat like hogs.

When you’re a youngster, you look forward to a break

Just like delicious cake

But the cake is lie; to this, summer homework can testify.

As we grow older, we lose summer vacation

Only looking forward to when our drive will be colder.

The beaches are filled with no shortage of folks,

Who wander around like a bunch of old pokes.

Swimming pool are not any more of a substitute,

Wither indoor or outdoor,

They can be quite the chore.

Oh, we cannot forget the chores,

Wonderful chores,

Such a bore

Such a snore

They create a tiring lore.

Because of summer, the grass grows tall,

Mowing every week makes one wish for fall.

Doing house repairs under the glaring sun,

My advice to you,

Do not believe it will be “fun”.

Yet with all of the bad

The sad

The madness of summer, there are good things about the season.

For one, it gives you a break,

And changes things up,

Allowing escape from winters cold embrace.

Illness is rare, the viruses weak,

Which make summer fair, and not so bleak.

Cold treats in abundance,

Fresh fruits make you want to do a sun dance.

Of course, there is nostalgia too,

A maiden who can make one quite blue,

Unless you revisit cherished memories,

And walk back in time, to that time, under the cherry trees.

Looking at it all, I still prefer Fall,

But summer has its charms

Even if you have to work the family farm.