I love how every month has different little poems!
Today - someone lived and wrote, wept and bled.
In June a great artist had something to say,
and now it's engraved into history for those with eyes to see.
In July it happens again. And it will happen in August too!
So July, hold me under your warmth - cradle me.
I am being strong, but I just need a break.
Take my hand into the sun's heat -
show me I can be exposed
without being burned!

C.M. 1/7/25

The heat of midday has passed
giving way to a cool evening breeze.
The Sun is slowly falling into the horizon
and its beams cast lengthening shadows.

Other than the gentle rustling of the trees,
as the wind breathes over the leaves,
the only sounds are the trilling of insects
and the glorious birdsong
sharing the warmth of a summer’s eve.

We sit in silence,
letting the warm rays caress us,
basking in the tranquility of the scene.

I feel my eyes growing heavy
as a calmness envelops me
and a sense of joy
washes away my cares.

You whisper,“Look!”
and opening my eyes
I catch my breath as I view the sky
turning vibrant orange and red
as the Sun touches that distant horizon.

The sun boasted of romance's it had seen                                                             ­                                                               during  the previous summers of love                                          For there  have been many a young teen                                                             ­                                                            who fit that description like a glove                                                            Shining down to sun-kiss  pale skin                                                             ­     like a fourth of July firecracker sparklin'                                                        ­   Heating  up the fires that burn within                                                      Summer romances on the horizon                                                          ­           The lazy days and the long nights                                                           ­  staying  out  late by the bonfire light                                                            ­ The magic of romance ,touching your life                                                Feel  the rush and come alive

been thinking of you lately,
every thought of you spoonfed to me on a hot summer breeze.
the kind that makes you exhale extra hard, racing for the next breath.

i crush the lavender sitting in my vase every evening
with my bare hand, just enough until it reaches my nose.
it doesn't make me think about a hand around your throat,
but it permeates the air just as sweet.

the fresh and rotten cherries knock on my window the next evening,
and i'm still looking for you between the mirage lines.

i open the window, and it's as sugary as a cherry pit.
no, not that one, the pit in my stomach.
the butterflies welcome the rotten core, a cannibal feast.

if you knocked on my door the next day i'd
imagine it as something like a little bit of both.
a pit in my stomach and a hand around your throat.

your hair smells like an unaired room from bygone summers.
the fan is turned on low speed, and my neck is stiff from the draft
and turning towards the window.

Oh, my sweet
summer child,
with your golden smile
and that glimmer in your eyes.

I admire you,
maybe even envy
your blinding sun,
that hurts my tired eyes.

Your sun-kissed
picture frame face
exudes such joviality
but at a pace

With undulating curls
that unfurl around
your shimmering face,
yet still hold place.

How does it feel
to be God’s favorite?
I wonder,
how you smile with such grace.

Your laugh,
my sigh,
melt away
in the citrus and heat.
The sun beats down
on my back
in undulating waves.
I drink it in,
but it leaves an aftertaste—
unnervingly inevitable.
Soon it’ll be over.
It won’t last…
I know.

But before I leave,
I want to waste
my last days
getting lost
in the haze
of your sun-kissed
summer face

The sun is out.
The children scream and shout
All about.

There is no more school.
Everyone in the pool!
No more looking like a fool.

They run outside,
Find places to hide
And bikes to ride.

Everyone is having fun
No rush, no places to run.
Relax and play with anyone.

No one is stressed,
No more weight on their chests.
This is why summer is the best

     Corinna, wake
     For Heavens sake,
You slothful Slug-a-bed!
     May is long past,
     And June flyes fast;
Roses are cherrie-red.

     Corinna, rise;
     Open your eies;
You sleep far far too much.
     Get up, or els
     Suffer the smells
Of an oven hot and Dutch!