How We Love Thee

Where wild phlox crawls in purple rivers

And azure seas of noon-tide gleam

On green fields rolling to forever

Beneath the sun’s coronal beam

Where butter-cups gold-vessel splendor

Pools on bluffs, on banks and hills

And our shadows, long and slender

On the twilight hour spills

Where the willow’s wanton weeping

Tunes the midnight’s moody moan

Where December’s stream lay sleeping

Now it laughs on mud and stones

Where the strain of sunset vesper

Lingers on the trembled hush

As the stain of heaven’s grandeur

Falls in mercy from its brush

Where the nail-hook says ‘gone fishing’

For these drawn-out days are small

Soon the summer heart is wishing

For the hours preceding fall

Where the heart is humbly happy

As the bumbling, tumbling bee

Imbibed with heady lupine-nectar

Fairest June, how we love thee

© Janet Martin

Sunday Whirl