(Here's another favorite poem, this one a sonnet by Timothy Steele describing the exquisite serenity of a languid summer afternoon. Enjoy.)

Summer

by Timothy Steele

Voluptuous in plenty, summer is

Neglectful of the earnest ones who’ve sought her.

She best resides with what she images:

Lakes windless with profound sun-shafted water;

Dense orchards in which high-grassed heat grows thick;

The one-lane country road where, on his knees,

A boy initials soft tar with a stick;

Slow creeks which bear flecked light through depths of trees.

And he alone is summer’s who relents

In his poor enterprisings; who can sense,

In alleys petal-blown, the wealth of chance;

Or can, supine in a deep meadow, pass

Warm hours beneath a moving sky’s expanse,

Chewing the sweetness from long stalks of grass.