Two Faces of Summer

I was let out for a couple of hours today to enjoy a grey beach, grey waters and a grey sky in Dromana.
Even a lone seagull couldn't muster much height, fearing another icy deluge was imminent.


When tied and gagged in Winter's freezer for
Endless, bleak, misty days
We hope for some wayward sylph from Mother Nature to
Saunter by and
Move the door
Ajar

We hope for more than
Spring
(The pretty time)

We want Summer

SUMMER
WE WANT SUMMER

Aaah...
According to SOS
(Stereotypes of Summer - published by the Utopian Dictionary Press)
Summer spells:
Swimmming refreshing blue seas ~ real or metaphorical
Unifying body and spirit with the balm of holiday happiness
Mellowing ~ the mind
Massaging ~ the body into
Eternal 
Reverie

The other dystopian dictionary would have us believe
(If I can vaguely remember):
Sizzling sunburn ~ of earth and flesh
Unsightly plague of pesky flies
Manipulating ~ the patience
Masticating ~ the temper into
Everlasting 
Regret that we ever chose Summer as our dream season

But I lost that dictionary
Somewhere in the pile of melancholic leaves
I raked up
Last Autumn


Linking to:
dVerse Poetics ~ Summer-y; Dog Days/Zucchini

She was Ophelia...

Ophelia by Odilon Redon



Mirage
Sleeping young face melting in 
Some oasis rain puddle
Alongside
Some random fallen leaves
And flowers


Soon
The relentless sun
Snuffs
The last light
Burns the cursed moment
Gone


 Linking to:
Magpie Tales #124
Poetry Pantry #105

NOTE: For those who think I have re-invented the Ophelia story, I have not.
Instead, I looked at Redon's image and thought he seemed to capture the shape of a rain puddle.
And that's where my idea began.
As if, like a mirage, (my opening word) the innocent face of Ophelia appears in the rain puddle.
Like a brief, legendary moment has surfaced, re-incarnating her final moments, until the sun dries up the puddle, and she is gone once again.
Ophelia's story remains intact.