A harsher summer this year spins, when suns appear apart from one
With rays that claw to scald moist skins, yet burns respite once day is done
But words that speak like daggers flung, cast precise upon the soft
Will burn as like three times as strong without the chill of shade aloft.
No sweat can cool a wound of lies; no lines can stitch a ripe deceit
And rot can come and serve with flies, but naught will come to heal the cheat
For fibs now spun around in threads and meant to quilt a truth and sing
Will know no chill of winter spreads, nor tides of healing rains in spring
For earthly seasons come to end, but summer suns that pierce with lies
Will reign and burn and see no mend, and spoil the crop that feed the wise
But lies wield shields of shallow husk, when truths are armed and rise to slay
Will virtue then bring on the dusk to usher in an honest day.
-j.m.
