Ninety-eight in the Shade

Ninety-eight in the shade.

Frenzied for his lemonade

With great delight I take my place,

Savor his fruit, so sweet to my taste.

Forget this day some mermaid's coffee.

Let me rest at noon dreaming of Weeki Wachee.

Sunburnt I am, turning dark, but lovely.

Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, he loves me.

My sun-soaked 'hon' stands at the grill,

Flipping that others may get their fill,

Proclaims, "Behold, he stands behind our wall!

Shoo, you mite - you dare not stall!"

With barely a thought said mite steals weenies

Then races to see all the lovely bikinis.

Leaping he flies, a young stag, over grass parched -

A gazelle skipping on the lawn dry as starch.

"To love young, love seasoned," we raise rounded goblets.

He toasts to lips, lips "like a strand of scarlet,"

Says, "How beautiful are your feet in sandals.

Head to toe you eclipse the sun, earth's bright candle."

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Umbrellas at Pool, as seen from St. Simons

Lighthouse; Barbara Butler McCoy; August, 2009]]