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Summer Irony
Pulsating staccato trills,
Wind wanes as he dies asleep.
Streetlights dim the watered ground,
Where flowers sprout from the concrete
And see the moon in all its glory.
Silence gives air to night's critters.
Crickets: tranquility, not void of sound.
And in the din of humid morning air,
The atmosphere spins when it's time
And the streets release in dew season.
The petals shrivel in light of the day.
Oh how irony seems to find its way
In nearly everything that breathes,
Even in the serene summer breeze.

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Perks of living in Florida: thinking of summer in the wintertime.