I was a happy, fluent linguist, fruitfully helping revive endangered languages,
As colorful rainbows walk across the sky, in buttery hours, turned languorous.

I enjoyed doing practical fieldwork, and establishing useful literary programs,
As the honeysuckle sun loves to found days, in silver and gold time, so grand.

Verbal interactions were very rewarding, like a dawn purple martin serenade,
As the orange sun rolls across the sky, to highlight roses and plans we made.

Fluent friends and I fascinated tangerine summer, when flourishing is in favor,
Like the long nights of luminous sparkle, in a house of deep evergreen nature.

Far-flung family chased festive seasons, visiting as rough weather turned fair,
Like full fledged fast migrations, of pretty, multicolored birds of turquoise air.

I lived in a house of incessant chatter, of birdsong, and sunset loving crickets,
Like the dalliance between color and light, or bees and blooms in the distance.

Sable shadows sambaed all summer, and lavish floral fumes spoke so sweetly,
Along sunshine soaked homes of my street, with gardens manicured so neatly.

Naughty neighbors now and then gossiped, as a hoot owl whispering to night,
Or a whistling wind carrying tales near and far, by various sensations in flight.

Intense summer heat was pressing on us, in the laughing yellow days so gold,
As burnt orange sun sat in the treetops, in the evening of blooms growing old.

The wind sang woodland lullabies, as pink robins rocked away in slow motion,
Singing a refrain now and again, in the elegant year of huge beauty explosion!

One evening I sat in an armchair reading, and was soon enveloped in scarlet,
Which caused me to say that I was 'well red,' due to the beauty of the sunset.

There was a mishap in my office next day, when envelopes dried in spilt glue,
Regardless of how you 'push the envelope,' it's just stationery,' I then knew!

At noon, I noticed a polite security guard, holding the door open for a clown;
And I felt it such a fine 'jester,' like chills when yellow, daisy sun goes down.

Later I tried to take a photo of a wheat field, but the image emerged 'grainy,'
Like 'lightning quick' changes of plans, once sunny weather has turned rainy.

I've found that puns are everywhere, in blooming hills, wild sea and misty air;
And even when you're not looking, they are trailing, with their charming flair!

Always arriving in a fashionably timely way, it's such fun to see words at play,
Like deep scarlet, twilight gatherings, of blue sunset forget-me-not bouquets!