The Jugular Pastimes Of Summer Poem by Cheryl McDonnell

A woman wears a dress
She’s spattered streams of red
Bees hum loosely about flower beds
Marinating marigolds and landing on heads

Here we sit upon the sharp end of summer
Eyes a peering like hot knives through butter
I think I forgot your card
Nothing meant hard

I see the clouds maybe one
As they dangle around the son
For some life is low cut
That’s as far as they look

Summer is a sinner
With the heat of hell
Oh this has come just right
See those tears in her eyes

Roll on the jumpers of winter
From the buildings they do fall
Gazes turning back into the paving
Till next year comes a gazing.