A gentle reminder that, waiting for summer impatiently doesn’t bring it any quicker; it only delays the enjoyment of what is now.

Come, let us tug on the lampshade of this nascent

summer’s tomboy turning.

She’s taking her damn time finding voice among us

while looking in another direction.

Left alone, she’d rather hum some out of tune

tale of wanton disregard, delaying her surrender

from drowsy trickles to dreamy trysts.

We think there is for us the promise of something

better when the light is longer, the pungence deeper.

But, alas, there remains in her coming only the

last of the winter riddles, hidden among jokes

poor told with silly punchlines.

Maybe if we stop waiting for her we’ll

find today instead?