Summer in the South
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
The oriole sings in the greening grove
As if he were half-way waiting,
The rosebuds peep from their hoods of green,
Timid and hesitating.The rain comes down in a torrent sweep
And the nights smell warm and piney,The garden thrives, but the tender shoots
Are yellow-green and tiny.Then a flash of sun on a waiting hill,
Streams laugh that erst were quiet,The sky smiles down with a dazzling blue
And the woods run mad with riot.
Did you see the SuperMoon last night? Tonight is the real full moon but it was putting on a show last night, too.