I thought to pen a sonnet or a pleasant little ode
A verse of knights so daring and the mighty steeds they rode.
A tribute to the faeries and the forests of the night
But sadly not a paltry little couplet could I write.
Humidity assaulted me like blankets wet and thick.
My brain had been removed and in its place there was a brick.
Unpleasant dusty clouds swirled up brought on by lack of rain
And all my creativity was lost and gone again.
I languished for the longest time in pools of my own sweat
The death of half-seen visions filling me up with regret.
The shards of dreams unrealized lay broken at my feet.
The helpless, harmless victims of the unrelenting heat.
I cried for every fallen dream a somber requiem
For each of those rough stones had promise to become a gem.
But Summer in its jealous way would let no other shine
And so destroyed the promise of a poem rather fine.
But then the clouds rolled in and forced the brutal Sun to flee.
They burst with weight of raindrops plopping down with symmetry.
A subtle song, a pattern to each drop that touched my face
Transformed my mood and led me back to my creative place.
And like that healing torrent, words came rushing from my pen.
I knew what I must write and so I started off again
Accompanied by bird song and the breeze's gentle sigh
A poet rose reborn and stretched his thoughts up to the sky.