By the SWEAT of my brow indeed
The tiny tasks of late summer
One, trim the late-blooming Virgin’s BOWER
Two, tie up the cucumber vine
Three, dream of ice-filled, cold drinks
Oh August, soon the temperatures will LOWER

And we will miss your heat,
Your lion’s roar of humidity
But for now, I wilt and wipe,
Heading for the shade

Georg’ann

Reality might not match
the IMAGE in your fantasy.
I prefer to SLEEP,
not much of a LOVER,
more of a LONER.
LOWER your expectations.
Find alternate amusements,
I’m off to dreamland.

Heather