or, Sum Up Summertime, Poetically Licensed Sing-Song Meter Edit

Just because it’s summer, there’s not always a last rose
Baseballs fly into bats, and bats fill up on mosquitoes
Camping corpses marinate in DEET, but still they are a-slappin’
Pedro’s fire works, as does yours, and explosions are happ’nin’

Summing Up The Ocean

Mother nature’s boiling vengeance, roiling from the Verde Cape
Canes hurry west, and walkers creak feebly– trying to escape
The baleful glare of Old Sol stares into your face until very late
And the fiddling cricket song of heat barely ever does abate

But we can cook with fire
Stumble home from beach, good-tired
Concerts on the lawn
Jammin’ until dawn
Another corny campfire song
About love and ire

The sun shines down on the ritual of SPF one-hundred-ten
Fire on your skin, calling up melanin, it’s Summer again
Even if you just sit around very fast, or labor in meditation
Make the most of it, and call it a vacation.