Summer Stars

You can never keep a good woman down

Fires on her hilltop, Rings of thorns surrounding her

Sharp eyes and a sharper mind that clocks

Her time the world’s place, her body deemed for seasonal changes

She nestles the quiet in the raging storms

Dances in the rain to the whistle of the drizzle

Swiftly beating into thundering rain drops

Still, her movements casting shadows

She is elated for the fresh breath of air, Lucky Lucy

Little is her luck, the residue of her diligence,

Kindred to a pound of gold

The gods must be smiling down at her

See, it’s been a dry March, a harsh April and a cold May

But this woman’s work was never done

Her toils now reaping bounty

Yet her loaded wagon makes no noise.

While one swallow does not make the summer

She is ecstatic that she can make out the constellations

Her time is now

You could never keep her down

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