Today being the last day of July, I thought this poem by Louis Jenkins might be appropriate ...
Temperature in the upper seventies, a bit of a breeze. Great
cumulus clouds pass slowly through the summer sky like
parade floats. And the slender grasses gather round you,
pressing forward, with exaggerated deference, whispering,
eager to catch a glimpse. It’s your party after all. And it couldn’t
be more perfect. Yet there’s a nagging thought: you don’t really
deserve all this attention, and that come October, there will be
a price to pay.
It's been a while since the temperature was in the upper seventies - we haven't gotten out of the upper nineties here in NoVa for the whole last week. But I'm pretty sure that Mr Jenkins has nailed the fact that we'll pay a price for all this heat in a few months, when we trade heat domes for polar vortices ...
As a reminder (assuming you remember my comment in this space back on July 18th), today marks the end of Poetry Sunday and Musical Monday as individual features here at Bilbo's place. Tomorrow will be a regular post, and next Sunday, the previous Musical Monday feature will slide back one day and alternate with poetry selections in a new weekly post I'm calling ... well ... I'm not sure yet what I'm calling it. I'll let you know. In the meantime, if you have a suggestion, I'm open for it.
Have a good day. More thoughts (without musical accompaniment) tomorrow.