The Empty Summer

The Empty Summer
The snow, when it comes, is like a Florida miracle,
Amazing and romantic,
Though this is the Mid-Atlantic.
Since the year 2099
We live in endless summertime
No more seasons, precious rare
Icicles forming anywhere.
When to plant and when to gather
Is an antiquated blather
It doesn’t matter anymore
And we buy vegetables at the store.
When it first happened it was neat
To have summer vacation heat
And get great beach deals late in March.
Now you’ll see our eyebrows arch
At the idea of that being fun
Red sore skin and too much sun.