Summer is a longed for season,
Its golden warmth showers the land
In hope and beauty and crops
Bask in the light of sun
And soon we shall have fruit,
But in summer we seek shade
And hide from the golden warmth
And dream of the cool and of winter
And before we have appreciated
The warmth it is snatched from us
And unto us is given the gift
Of the fruit which basked
In the light and the golden warmth.
Yet we are not allowed the summer back.