August's Hope

The sultry days of August
Are not the worst of all,
Because there is the promise
They'll soon give in to fall.

Still, while it's hot and humid,
And sweat is on our brow,
We do begin to wonder
Just when, and even how.

Heat now seems to be endless,
But summer's almost gone,
And then we'll moan and groan
When will winter be done?

When spring's around the corner
And ice is melting fast,
Then we begin to ask,
Just how long will it last?

There is no pleasing humans;
Our nature's discontent.
Might as well make the best of
Whatever we are sent.

The seasons come and go--
Summer, winter, spring and fall--
We're powerless to control them;
Why not enjoy them all?

Mary S. Palmer
8/1/12