How Kind is Summer? by Flora-lass  

They say I am as kind as summer

But summer does not always feel kind

When the sun beats down relentlessly, and work or rest are wearisome

And the parched earth yields little;

When rain, however welcome, is disruptive,

And tempers fray either way.

Could I not be as kind as spring, with all the hope it brings?

For my healing gives hope to others, and to me.

Or even as winter, when there is comfort and warmth to be found in my Hall of Fire?

Too often in summer I despair

When the brightness is incessant, and joy is expected,

But I miss my dear ones most.

My beloved's flowers are abundant in her memory

And I feel lost without her.

And what is ‘kind’, in any case? 

My twin and I received kindness from kinslayers

As well as from the king.

Summer is not always kind,  but anyone can be.

We planted a tree, to mark the passage of our youth.

Under its kindly gaze, we played and climbed and learnt to fight

And sometimes simply watched the world go by

As its colours changed and we all grew to maturity.

But he went away, twice over.

It outlived him by far;

Every year it flourished, but suddenly he was no longer there to see.

I have its like at Rivendell

And the sons of Elros’ line find much pleasure in the shady boughs.

But they cast shadows on my heart.

So summer brings sorrow; even as I seek to ease it,

In this valley where all of goodwill are welcome.

While I wear Vilya, the blue-sky ring of power,

the sun shines and we are safe.

But my anger, against Orcs and the Darkness,

and even with the One

Can surge as fiercely as the floods I may unleash in our defence.

And grief comes upon me like a summer storm.

But then I am cleansed, for a time, 

and the season passes soon enough.

I still have my children to love, and Isildur's heirs to nurture.

So I go on, as I must, 

and as kind as I may be.

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