(sonnet # CLXXXI)
CLXXXI
July in balmy sweetness wends its way
Out for this year: cicadas buzz e'en still
Persistant as the gloaming fades, while shrill
Dear crickets even frogs seem now to play
Their dulcet notes in chorus faintly, yea;
And phantom clouds in grey tease, softly spill
Or lend their vague tones to the sunset's thrill,
Where hazed by rosy flush night kisses day.
The wettest one in o'er a hundred years!
And yet so hot and dry the lawns half died.
Its storms made quite a racket, fun to hear,
An awesome sight! They made the countryside
More verdant. This month I ne'er hold too dear,
But for the mem'ries which in it reside.
31Jul11