Tonight's Poet Corner: Our Last August Picnic

Our Last August Picnic
by Belinda Roddie

Pretty dame, serve me up
a hefty slice of that
summertime butterfly pie. It warms
me up good, so when I smile,
my teeth are sunset gold, the molars
capped with a residual,
yellow pollen glow.

There's enough blue in the sky
to turn the sea into sapphire. There's
a breeze soft enough to fluff
my hair like a pillow. Carefree
swimming pool days are finally
leaving, but I won't cry in autumn
as long as you're still with me.

Pretty dame, serve me up
a glass of wine to go with that
summertime butterfly pie. I am
aching with nostalgia, but I'll do
just fine with your arm around
my shoulder and your hip
against my thigh, guzzling
sunlight before the season dies.