The spring has been a brief one, and a hot-
A spendthrift thief of subtle season’s change.
Flowers not yet meant to bloom are caught
Within the raging torrent- and the range
Of Summer’s rate proceeds immoderate
Without the ordered, dignified procession
Of seemly grace. Thus in my mind’s estate
Such prodigality of contemplation
Is displayed, that all my thoughts have bloomed,
And prematurely blows the seeded breeze.
And I am left to mow the leaves and sneeze
And burn my compost thought ‘til all’s consumed.
But hope in this; though now the seeds are Sorrow
Still yet they sow another Spring tomorrow.
It would seem that the Muse is absent right now, and the Dusty Thane has an excuse. He is in Greece. Silly man…visiting his in-laws… Before he left he wrote about a lack of inspiration due to looming vacationing. It is clever and lovely. But I too was seeking inspiration and finding it not. Last night, over the G&T’s you see below, the plan was to write about seeking the Juniper Muse, but the poem had other plans for itself.