A Summer’s Night of Winter’s Woe

The night with a harsh and iron fist
removed the joy from summer’s eye,
and gusts of biting, icebox air
howled wild in September sky.
The night then served a bitter drink
for the season’s offbeat vis-à-vis,
when a sudden blast of piercing rain
was furnished unexpectedly.
Surrounded by a plethora
of wind and rain and rime,
the night enacted an offense
of winter woe in summertime.

An enervating curse of cold,
abrasive pause from warming winds.
A woe-begotten threadbare thief
who steals the sun when fall begins.
And even though the wintertime
will blanket Earth with snow,
I will always be dismayed by
a summer’s night of winter’s woe.

20 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
9-21-19