Ode for Summer's Poets

Where meals are gathered from a garden-green charcuterieOh my, but fresh-picked goodness garners five stars, hard to beat In simple supper-salad satisfaction guaranteeWhere summer's poets thank the Lord for poems they can eat Where golding wheat field billows like an ocean ebbs and flows... Where overhead the sky beckons in bottomless blue pose/prose... Where flower gardens toss a lure, sure to delight the sighOf summer's poets enchanted by petaled color-splurge... Where bees are buried to their knees inside each nectar-fount... Where golding wheat field billows like an ocean ebbs and flowsWhere rural routes are fringed with wild lupine and chamomileWhere overhead the sky beckons in bottomless blue pose/proseTo summer's poets hypnotized by ballads that beguile Where finding happiness is easier in sweet JulyWhere daybreak rolls across earth’s shoreline in a coral surgeWhere flower gardens toss a lure, sure to delight the sighOf summer's poets enchanted by petaled color-splurge Where bees are buried to their knees inside each nectar-fountWhere there are blooms enough to satisfy the thirst of allWhere the Creator knows how to stoke a syllabic countFrom summer's poets eager to compose a madrigal Where an air of contentment settles like dew-heady dustWhere clover fields yield a perfumed playground for butterfliesWhere every backroad rouses a wild streak of wanderlustIn summer's poets looking for a country paradise Where meals are gathered from a garden-green charcuterieOh my, but fresh-picked goodness garners five stars, hard to beatIn simple supper-salad satisfaction guaranteeWhere summer's poets thank the Lord for poems they can eat Where we hop out of bed to watch the sun come up at fiveWhere we linger till ten to feel dusk’s symphony immerseOur senses, where best reasons we are glad to be aliveKeen summer's poets pressed for time to tame them into verse Where July is an arms-wide-open, welcome-home embraceWhere shadow-pools beneath the maple tree are dark and deepWhere lavish looms spin lilies, lavender and Queen Ann’ s laceWhile summer's poets smile and snare fond mementos to keep © Janet Martin Where we linger till ten to feel dusk’s symphony immerseOur senses,...