Sweet Season of Summer-Is

Happy, Happy Officially-Summer!(I  didn't think about or look at the date yesterday and it didn't dawn on me till this morning that It's Summer!!!)Also, just as a reminder, we no longer have the whole summer ahead of us!We are already a day-and-a-half into it, so,don't waste a single sparkle because all too soonits sparkles will be white and frosty😅❆ Sweet season of warm, drawn-out daysOf early apricot-glazed dawn... Of distant mist-spearmint-kissed sweepsFringing bucolic countryside... Of midday picnics on the lawn... (helping gramma with a refill) Of rippling, rolling wheat-field seasCrowned with welkin, azure marquee... Of five-star cuisine, simplifiedAs bowls and baskets start to brimWith garden dreams and prayers come true... Rainbow of laundry-laden lines... Whisper of wisteria vines... Popsicles moustaches, ...hopscotch This was a bit of poem unfolding with the day and day unfolding with the poem... Sweet season of warm, drawn-out daysOf early apricot-glazed dawnAnd coral dusk’s lingering hazeOf midday picnics on the lawnBeneath lush, green-leaf canopiesOf School's Out Heaven, fancy-freeOf rippling, rolling wheat-field seasCrowned with welkin, azure marqueeOf flower-gardens running wildIgnoring fences, frilling lanesOf laughing, leaping barefoot childOf dew-diamonds and daisy chainsOf distant mist-spearmint-kissed sweepsFringing bucolic countrysideOf raindrop-dappled, dusty streetsOf five-star cuisine, simplifiedAs bowls and baskets start to brimWith garden dreams and prayers come trueAs thankfulness ignites a hymnThat humbly runs us through and throughAs moments, soon memento-spunAre gathered into heart-shaped vaultsCoppice-glint, silver in the sunSplash of cartwheels and somersaultsRainbow of laundry-laden linesOr rural, roadside flower-shopsWhisper of wisteria vinesPopsicles moustaches, hopscotchWhere sometimes work is more like playAnd sometimes after ‘playing’ hardWe take a tea-break holidayAnd spread a quilt in the backyardTo revel in the sheer delightOf summer, spilling in Real TimeThrough half-shut eyes we feel its flightPerforming, like a pantomimeWhere here-and-now and summers-spentSomehow, bitterly-sweetly stirA ballad of love and lamentWhere joys and sorrows rush and blurIn summer-song, a tide that tollsAnd strums the soul with smiles and tearsA wave that lifts and falls and rollsAcross Today, and disappearsThus, no one can afford to gazeToo long at ways we cannot thwartBetter to turn lament to praiseBetter a lover, glad to courtThe hour full of fleeting frondsOf lilies, like lanterns, sunlitOf cannonballs in turquoise ponds,Of excuses to pause a bitTo marvel at what we might missLike the color of morn on leavesThe holy, unexpected blissThat beauty-stolen breath achievesThe loveliness of letting goOf what no one can keep, to holdThe ephemeral ebb and flowOf petal-purple, scarlet, goldWhile summer spirals like a sparkFrom campfires that flare and fadeBeneath star-polka-dotted darkAs expectation’s hit-paradeChimes in belfries of hollyhockPink burst of  hello births farewellPlatinum lake laps, slaps the dockHappiness; none can buy or sellSeizes the Yellow Day that grantsUncharted opportunityTo kick up treasure-dust and danceTo lyrics of a memoryTo savor every sparkle-crumbThat falls from tables, heaven-castSpilling feasts destined to becomeFrom Summer-Is, echo-repast © Janet Martin To marvel at what we might missLike the color of morn on/through leaves... The holy, unexpected blissThat beauty-stolen-breath achieves... Better a lover, glad to courtThe hour full of fleeting frondsOf lilies, like lanterns, sunlit...