To Summer (In Reply To John Keats) Poem by Gert Strydom

Season of bright hued skies and great fruitfulness
intimate lover of the raging sun
forever baring fruit in great supply to bless,
from the very beginning your beauty was spun
to supply in sheer kindness
by the Eternal One
as the greatest in beauty, in sheer shimmering
and forever more
a follower of the dainty spring
with sweetness, splendour and fragrance at your core
as spring has gracefully waved you in.

Even children wander stricken through your orchards
in reverence to taste, to smell and your sheer beauty
following the greatest mother, holding you in the highest regards,
but I see thee as utterly witty and past lovely, very pretty
the mature bride that is ever blossoming, ever fruitful
and ravishing, you wade through life, really fair,
always gentle, never reproachful
with the sky, the sun, the wind in your hair
and you make you palace among bed upon bed of flowers
as a immortal queen bedecked in lovely green
fulfilling your duties in the passing hours.

The songs, the joys of blossoming,
are sung in your presence, with thunder and rain
are spent, are swept away, are withering
while you bring forth without pain
and all the elements sing of your great glory
and never like that of spring
with even insects, birds in accessory
your praises sing, with voices that ring
while you rule supreme over your territory
while you feed and heed every living thing
and at your passing, you remain the sweetest memory.

[Reference: To Autumn by John Keats.]