‘The ground parched and cracked
is like over baked bread.’
Thats a sign of the
season I dread.
The season I speak
of is one that I hate.
This season I constantly
ask to be late.
The season is Summer
most shocking and true.
It’d be the thing
I’d hit with a shoe.
Now you have your opinion
and I have mine.
My favorite one falls
on month nine.
The first line in this poem is not mine but belongs to another poem called Autumn by John Clare. The rest of the poem is mine and the line is simply what inspired the rest of it.
