Perched at a window, I hear the rain's sound,
I watch lightning, and puddles the rain forms,
And through my observations I have found,
That summer is as fleeting as its storms.
Volatile is this August weather,
One minute sunshine, the next minute hail,
In an instant, blue skies become heather,
And a light summer breeze becomes a gale.
These powerful storms cause altered plans,
Many find that their journeys have been changed;
Sometimes, long beyond the storm, a change spans,
It's unpredictable, can't be arranged.
As suddenly as it began it ends;
However powerful, it was quite brief,
But it has many effects, and tends
To provide a little bit of relief.
Summer itself is equally fleeting,
It's a nice break from the rest of the year,
When it begins, I grin at its greeting,
And when it ends, I always shed a tear.