SUMMER
DEATH IF I THINK -
THEN SUMMER MONTH
YOU IN BLACK – READING
ENDLESS POEMS
ANGRY SUMMER
PARCHED FOR RAIN
MUNICIPAL OFFICE
WRINKLED MEN
MAY IT WAS
CAME THE KING
DIRT AND SWEAT FILLED HANDS
MY HUT UNCLEAN
SUMMER IS HOT AND DRY
STRANGER MY WARRIOR
TAKE REST
ITS EVENING TIME
WRITE LETTERS FROM
SUMMER LANDS
IN MY TRUNK THEY DRY
THE JULY MOIST RAG
No wonder you are in love with Summer, when it can inspire you to write so well... the municipal was witty... letters - almost nostalgic...
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