The Tea Party

The Tea Party

When Spring and Summer sit down to tea,

the crickets keep them company.

The steam from their cups often fills

the lowly valleys and lofty hills.

The peepers, those little frogs,

pop up from the bottom of their bogs.

Their songs carry on the warm evening air,

and awaken the green infants everywhere.

Once the trees are clothed in their emerald gowns,

mild sister Spring lets her defenses down.

Summer steps in, heats up, and takes over.

The green children run wild from ivy to clover.

They fill up yards and scurry up trees.

They shade the snakes and feed bumble bees.

The moonflowers are an ornery sight.

They come out past curfew and stay out all night.

When Summer’s children start acting too bold,

then she realizes that she’s getting old.

She can’t keep the trees’ gowns clean.

They turn crusty brown instead of soft green.

The butterflies first feel the distress.

They leave to escape the hot, humid mess.

The trees shake their fists at the sky and demand:

“Do something about this parched, filthy land!”

All of the green children start to protest.

They are getting tired and need their rest.

So in order to answer their humble plea,

Summer sends for Autumn and invites him to tea.
(c) Trinny Sigler 1995