(Image from http://aleph0.clarku.edu)Summer is never gone from this land
It merely hides during rain,
sneaking a peek at the sky,
waiting for the sun to smile.
The times you think it’s fall,
you are reminded September
wears different clothes near the equator.
You shine in your own way, sunbeam.
Dropping the baby blubber
to be a young woman,
growing miles of legs
that make your mother look skywards,
your pale brown eyes stop boys in their tracks.
Your sister and I share September
the same way your brother and mom
tarry with January.
Facile rhymes and ignored cadences
make it easy to write verses.
Same way three fourths through the year
bring the smell of Christmas near
and carols to the doorstep.
