Happy Summer

Her branches reach across the yard
tall and proud from season's gone by
dangling the jewels of summer
bringing forth ripe, tart
beautifully yellow' d lemons
picked, they are, in morning's wee hours
as not to be drenched in afternoon's southern humidity

Each lemon is tenderly placed in the crate
they spring forth a mouthwatering, fresh perfume
they ooze sweetest oil from their pores
dimples cover the richness of their peels
summer is all about lemons
about fresh, homemade, full of pulp,
thirst quenching, pucker up lemonade.

Happy Summer!

Copyright @ 08/21/2010

poem by Diana Newsome
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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