No wind, no bird. The river flames like brass.
On either side, smitten as with a spell
Of silence, brood the fields. In the deep grass,
Edging the dusty roads, lie as they fell
Handfuls of shriveled leaves from tree and bush.
But ’long the orchard fence and at the gate,
Warm weather, vacations, and days of sun and the beach: June, July, and August (and the first few weeks of September) have inspired their fair share of summer poems. Browse our selection of poems about the summer season.