Summer

The sun was beating down upon
The earth , the trees and me,
It was sticky hot and miserable,
As far as I could see.

I closed my eyes and wiped my brow,
I was praying  for a breeze,
But all was still and quiet,
No wind did stir the trees.

I dreamed of winters past,
Cold mornings crisp and clear,
With snowflakes drifting all around,
But I've months to wait I fear.

I wouldn't have to sweat like this,
And I wouldn't have a care,
If only I'd been born.....
A great big polar bear!

~ Charlotte Anselmo ~

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