WHY I CAN'T WRITE POEMS IN THE SUMMER
Sunshine depresses me
Progressively
As summer days drag on
Like dragon breath
Or a bad cigarette
Dead set
On tasting hot and dry.
That's why
I like bad weather best,
I guess.
Seasonal affect in reverse
Is worse
Than the other way around.
I've found
Writing poems in the summer
To be a bummer.
I can't wait for fall or spring.
Anything
With dying and rebirth.
This dearth
Will be the death of me
And my poetry.
— John G. Gregory, Jr.
