Dag nabbit, I always miss these things! Here's one for free to add to the summer poetry spirit! Also, reading the actual submissions, it's encouraging. Thanks to all the people who took the time to edify the rest of us, you deserve all the votes.
Propped on his elbows under a tree,
A boy named Pip lies pouting,
This summer is boring, find something to see!
His romantic nature was shouting.
And like any boy with idle hands finds,
Boredom will soon beget folly,
Like the adults say, ennui blinds,
But for him adventure is calling.
Carefully he creeps up on,
A fairy-catching boy,
And while he's distracted,
Pip's plan is enacted,
He swipes the others season-changing toy.
The other boy continues stalking fairies,
As Pip sneaks off then breaks into a run,
It's not that his intentions are nefarious,
He's just looking to have a little fun.
Atop a stump he yells with a swing,
The breeze smells of rain fresh fallen,
The season now has turned to spring,
The wind is heavy with fragrant pollen.
A smile of wonder and giggle of glee,
Pip is filled with childish elation,
His temper improved vicariously,
With the seasonal transfiguration.
A Deku flower has nearby bloomed,
And in jumps the frenzied small fry,
His nature compels him,
The flower expels him,
And rockets him into the sky.
He drifts to the floor of the forest anon,
Where his town and the wild abut,
The stifling monotony of summer is gone,
Replaced by a growl in his gut.
On the nearby stump of a fallen oak tree,
Pip makes short work of the spring,
With a flash of his rod,
Again he plays God,
And the seasons arrange to his liking.
Red turn the trees and the nectar-drunk bees,
Find their flowers have fruited post-haste,
Autumn's arrival came just when he pleased,
With nary a moment awaste.
A shroom and an apple, a plum and a pear,
He munches in a ravenous flurry,
And just for good measure,
As he walks at his leisure,
Tops it off with handfuls of raspberry.
With his tummy full of Holodrum fruit of the seed,
Pip tops the stump again,
"A blizzard is just what this quiet day needs!"
The rascal opines with a grin.
The scepter swings and a chilly wind,
Blasts the wood with a howl,
Snow piles high,
In the blink of an eye,
And quickly he draws up his cowl.
Through the wintery wood he flies,
Flinging snowballs at enemy trees,
Sliding wildly below frozen skies,
Enjoying with gusto the sudden freeze.
When without warning a groan and a crack,
Signals a shifting of fortune,
The ice breaks and yawns,
And he drops the baton,
Each horrifying in equal proportion.
The last thing the boy in the icy pond sees,
Lamenting as he does his backfired petard,
As he slips 'neath the waves in the maw of the freeze,
The boy who he'd robbed, retrieving his rod.
Darkness will take him if deeper he sinks,
When then without warning his face feels sun,
His eyes remain closed as the rays his skin drinks,
His lungs cease to ache has life after begun?
Eyes fluttering open his hopes are confirmed,
As he lifts his head up from the stone,
Where moments ago,
He was knee-deep in snow,
He lay now in a lakebed, dry as a bone.
The fairy boy stands with rod in hand,
Like mythical Galahad,
With a sigh of contrition,
Pip's muttered admission,
"Maybe the summer isn't that bad."