Photo By Jools Thatcher

Photo By Jools Thatcher

This week finds us down at the National Gallery of Victoria saying Good Bye Summer. So with Jon always having his eye on an easy way out (he had a gig up in Brunswick straight after the show) He decided that this week’s theme for the poem is “ End Of Summer“.

Thanks to everyone who came along and said hello, it was great to meet you.

To play this poem directly in your browser – just click the “play” button below:

Also have a listen to the tracks on the new EP “Once We Were Kings Of The World

End Of Summer

Thirty nine, last weekend
As hot as summer’s peak
A few crook days, doubt finds seed
Much changes in a week

Despite a factor thirty plus
The rays have still got in
Dried, fried and scarified
My pasty Celtic skin

Summer’s loyal disciples
Cling to hope of yet more sun
Like an aging football player
Who fails to see their race is run

Though the mercury will tease
It masks a slow demise
All around are signs
Of Winter on the rise

The odd leaf, already falling
Not quite as warm at night
Suddenly you notice
We’ve lost an hour of light

Banksias in flower
Vivid, fiery, spikes
Waterproofs join Lycra
Worn by zealots on their bikes

Parking spots near beach’s
Not quite as hard to find
At the pub, a steady increase
In umbrellas left behind

Fish seek warmer waters
Birds have flown away
Migrating retirees prepare
To flee to Hervey Bay

Your neighbour’s in the garden
Planting turnips, spinach, swedes
In the scrub, the threat of bushfire
Never far, at least recedes

Football rears its ugly head
Amongst the devotees
Surfboards strapped to roof racks
Will soon be swapped for skis

On farms the topics calving
And sowing winter crops
Signs spruik “End of Season sales”
In junk mail, ads and shops

Clothe Stores crammed with winter fare
Beiges, greys and blacks
Shorts and T-Shirts banished
To rot on discount racks

No change at Supermarkets
No talk of seasons here
Food stocked “fresh” straight from the fridge
Where it hibernates all year

In time, Summer shall return
The Phoenix will arise
Along with snakes, box jelly fish
Mossies, wasps and flies

Embrace the change of seasons
Opportunities that unfold
Instead of whingeing about the heat
We can whinge about the cold

© Copyright 2012 Ian Bland

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