I love to sit out in the sun
Down by the plum tree
Slowly budding out its purple leaves
And pale pink flowers
I thrive on the heat
Like some cold blooded reptile awakening
After a long and arduous winter
The summer belongs to me
And to my Aztec skin
The peasants all run inside their hovels
At the rising of the summer sun in the sky
They run and hide their pale milky skins
I sit in the noon day sun
With a copy of one of Rod's books Maybe (Stanyon Street)
Or my favorite
(Listen To The Warm)
And the sun makes the pages Bright
For me
The letters stand out brilliantly
Summer is mine
No swamp kooler for me
I would prefer the beach
But in all honesty
The desert was created for old men like me.
And Summer Is Mine
3/1/2016
29 Palms Ca.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderfully articulated. I look forward to the brilliance of summer's light and warmth, but anything over 95 gets old quickly. Not to mention humidity