A POEM FOR SUMMER

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.