Summer’s End

Summer’s End – with apologies to W. Shakespeare

Now was the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of Greece;
And all the clouds that loomed over our land
Under a shallow layer of sand buried.

On golden-white beaches and blue-green isles
We hid from the coming storm, taking shelter
In yellow-golden fields left to wither
and windswept forests left to burn.

We turned a deaf ear to the rolling thunder,
Ignoring the acrid smell of smoke
We bathed in the blue waters and basked
In the sun’s heat, building hopeful sand castles.

Bound to ruin with the wind’s first blow,
Come autumn, come rain and lightning;
The fiery heat of summer into flame
shall turn, and burn everything to ashes.