Viola M. Wurl
Flowers dance in a soft warm breeze
To a tune hummed by the bumble bees.
The cricket chirps his cheery song,
The old frog croaked that the words were wrong
The blackbird sings from the willow tree
While above the swallows dive so wild and free.
The fish flops his tail in the meadow pond
And once more summer has waved her magic wand.