Summer night ending so soon
while on the river shallows
a sliver of moon remains

Buson

Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away.
And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.

Tagore

...As the shadows deepen under the tomal trees, and the dusk
gathers on the river-banks; when the milkmaids, while crossing the
turbulent water, tremble with fear; and loud peacocks, with tails
outspread, dance in the forest, he watchers the summer clouds.
When the April night is sweet as a fresh-blown flower, he
disappears in the forest with a peacock's plume in his hair; the
swing ropes are twined with flowers on the branches; the south wind
throbs with music, and the merry shepherd boys crowd on the banks
of the blue river...

Rabindranath Tagore

What is one to say about June, the time of perfect young summer, the fulfillment of the promise of the earlier months, and with as yet no sign to remind one that its fresh young beauty will ever fade.

~Gertrude Jekyll

In my garden there is a large place for sentiment. My garden of flowers is also my garden of thoughts and dreams. The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers, and the dreams are as beautiful.

~Abram L. Urban

...Summer is a recognition of your own fruitfulness...

Kahlil Gibran

What is one to say about June, the time of perfect young summer, the fulfillment of the promise of the earlier months, and with as yet no sign to remind one that its fresh young beauty will ever fade.
~Gertrude Jekyll

Oh, the summer night
Has a smile of light
And she sits on a sapphire throne.
~Barry Cornwall

Then followed that beautiful season... Summer....
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape
Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In The Summer
by Nizar Qabbani

In the summer
I stretch out on the shore
And think of you
Had I told the sea
What I felt for you,
It would have left its shores,
Its shells,
Its fish,
And followed me.

*******************************

Photo by Peter Lik

Emily Dickinson


Summer — we all have seen —
A few of us — believed —
A few — the more aspiring
Unquestionably loved —

But Summer does not care —
She goes her spacious way
As eligible as the moon
To our Temerity —

The Doom to be adored —
The Affluence conferred —
Unknown as to an Ecstasy
The Embryo endowed —

Now that summer is here I have seen a lot of poppies
in all sorts of beautiful colours.

Love,
Vicky


The poppy opes her scarlet purse of dreams.
Scharmel Iris

"Drouse on, soft flowers of quiet afternoons-
The breezes sleep beneath your lulling spell;
In dreamy silence all the garden swoons...."

-John Russell Hayes, 1866-1945
From "The Old- Fashioned Garden"