Summer sun

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The summer blows pretty petals up to the noon-day sun,

Caresses the grasses where the field mice run.

Tickles cheeky rabbits when they come out to play,

A sweet, cooling friend on a hot summer’s day.

Then, for no reason, feeling angry now,

Pushes sleepy owls on the old oak bow.

Tearing through the hedgerows, flying down the lanes,

Scurrying in the school yard, rattling window panes.

When suddenly contrite now, all anger gone,

It stops and listens to a skylark’s song.

And, with one last sweet gesture, before fleeing to the sky,

Gently picks up a ladybird and kisses her goodbye.

Pat Smith,

Spurn Walk,

Hartlepool.