That Moment When Summer Arrives,
Whether or not the Solstice Has Occurred
The peonies are blown.
Rain knocked the petals off
the last poppy
and laid the daisies down on the lawn.
The first fireflies
sparkle the humid night.
You can smell
the grass growing.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2016
It's only been a few weeks, but I'd already forgotten how the June thunderstorms pummeled our peony blossoms. Your poem reminds me that poetry is rooted in observation.
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