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Robert Lindner
My Poem on the weather
Not political
But it is partly inspired
By Bob Dylan
But I'm younger than that now
Midsummer Clouds
“Yes, my guard stood hard to abstract threats
Too noble to neglect. Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect.
Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I’m younger than that now.”
My Back Pages by Bob Dylan
I wished the blues away,
As I walked on a cloudy Saturday.
But I knew that in the sky,
Since it was mid-July,
The sun was warming my
Thoughts and I also knew my wishes may
Come true, when tomorrow
Comes, as it always does, when I borrow
Time. As I walk along,
I shall sing loud and strong,
With a midsummer song,
Rising its way up to make the clouds go
Away. But not today
The midsummer clouds were going to stay.
I would have to wait till
Tomorrow, the sun will
Come up though it is still
There up above those clouds that are so grey.
But at least this day was
Cooler, compared to yesterday, because
Midsummer’s sun is hot
And some heat will be caught
By the clouds. Not a lot
But better than not, I think, as I pause
To catch the summer breeze,
I pause among the flowers and the trees,
To watch a butterfly
That does not care if I
Think the midsummer sky
Is grey. Because the butterfies and bees
Will spread the pollen of
The sun even though the sun is above
The mask of this cloudy
Grey day that bothers me.
But I’m where I must be
After some times that came by push and shove
Times borrowed for today
From yesterday, as life goes on its way
Into our memories
Sunny days, shady trees
Butterflies, honeybees
And clouds that will come and go, as the play
That we are actors in
Continues, as each new day may begin
On borrowed time, where we
Can sit and always be
Under that apple tree
Where death is trapped or where just by the skin
Of our teeth ,we survive
To the next scene and we are still alive
For midsummer night’s dreams
Till midsummer’s sun beams
And midsummer’s day steams
And we wish for clouds and a breeze to drive
The heat away. We are
What we are. Always wishing on a star
To chase the blues away.
But on a cloudy day
Or in a Wilder play
We must go with what’s been written so far
Into our cloudy play
That’s written by the playwright of the day,
Osborn, Wilder, Shakespeare,
Someone, who’s words appear
When a new day is drear
Like once on a midsummer Saturday,
Once upon a time when
I was not young and became older then.
I’m younger than that now.
Like you, I wonder how?
But what time will allow
I’ll take. Even a cloudy day again.
Robert Lindner
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