My patience for summer is wearing thin.
The novelty’s over for peeling off skin.
I’m looking forward for autumn to begin,
when cool, crisp morning’s return a grin.
The leaves will turn to gold and reds.
They’ll float to the ground nourishing beds.
Rakes will be pulled from overstuffed sheds,
soon replaced with our winter sleds.
Christmas and New Year’s, Oh what a blast,
though the warm, cheery feelings never last.
The future’s bitter cold, I long for the past.
The seasons shine on our natures contrast.
But spring will come and life’s renewed.
Optimism blooms and reality’s skewed.
Normality is as is the cycle it’s viewed.
With eyes to the stars, the burn subdued.