Scrooging on Summer (A July Tale)

Summer is lost on me
with its long
laborious days
of horrid heat
and getting hotter
Whatever isn’t
liquified
drowns in torrents of
warm water vomited from
dark angry skies and
were it not for fresh
corn tomatoes honey
and cucumbers
I would gladly
leave it behind
Damn its scathing
hot eye
peeling my skin
My clothes never dry
The grey catbird that
frequents my deck rail
understands
Loudly crying like a
wet diapered child
for Fall to come
and change this
soggy swaddle