Summer

Past towers and streams, spires and steeples, scorches the sun,

His endless fires and radiant winds sweep the crystal skies,

And squint our eyes to behold the world he has just now begun

So clear is his light, we must shade our sight, turning away our eyes.

Trees, arms uplifted, drink in your light with countless thirsty leaves,

And suck the moisture from the soil to make slow flowing syrup in their veins.

Seeds, wearing your warmth, shot stems and buds, as brightness cleaves

The earth to show how insects tunnel to their tasks. They toil until it rains,

Though thunder shakes the mountains, and lightening splits the sky with teeth.

The insect tunnels join like channels to feed the seed and stem and flower,

To ready them for you. The cool water makes rivulets that split the earth beneath,

And slides the soil like a beast of prey, first here, now there, dropping, by the hour.

And when the evening finally falls, your lowering eyes all heated things enthralls,

And cool breezes, like a soothing balm, enfold us, all around. Nightfall breathes

A sigh, and in the nearby forest we spy a fawn, on spindly legs that stumbles, almost falls

Upon the tufts of grass at the forest’s edge. Then, into the purple darkness, he leaves.