A Warm Day in July

The year is half o'er

when enters July,

Demure in her manner, 

sweet, gracious and shy.

Casting bright mellow warmth

over mountain and rill, 

And the last rose of summer

that's lingering still.

There is no fairer day

nor radiant sky

Than is found in the keeping

of blissful July.

For it's then that the larkspur

and buttercups bloom; 

Then songbirds sing best

and the world is in tune.

The air then is balmiest, 

trees are the greenest,

Flowers are prettiest

and life is serenest.

Then together midyear and 

midsummer pass by.

Oh, lackadaisical soulful July.

~Ruth Hathaway Miller