It is summer

It is Summer and the light now lingers
late into the night, while shadows grow
across the evening scene in long dark fingers.
The hills are basking in the sun's last glow
and black lines mark the gullies on the bright
banks, blushing in the red and setting sun.
Then dims to dusk this, summer's briefest night,
when sounds of tawny owl and curlew come
to decorate the silence of the feast.
The light, no sooner gone, returns as dawn
which, springing lightly from the far North East,
is welcomed by an orchestra of song.
Now all the world is green, the children play
at this beginning of another summer's day.



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