Tuesday, February 13, 2018

February's Summer Dusk




While looking for another photo I found these, 
transporting me from the growling g-r-r-r of B-r-r-r!! 
to h-m-m-m of Summer M-m-m-m!

When winds shake the world in jowls, churlish and brusque
I sing me a ditty of gold summer dusk
Of kitty-soft vesper ‘neath velveteen skies
Of starlight like diamonds in love’s laughing eyes
Of plush, purple pillows on lush, lowered eaves
Where feather-frond willows strum heaven’s plum sheaves
And hillsides grow sleepy while whispers undo
Their clamor of color with layers of blue

I sing of the things that make summer kings glad
Like rainbows of zinnia, the grin of a lad
With fists full of wiggle and squiggle and dirt
While wily wars trouble time’s bubble with hurt
And we do our best to shoulder Westward’s weight
Where summer dusk opens its ethereal gate
And slips through the trusses of dust-sweet so-long
Of musky caresses and dew-dappled gong

…of rock-a-bye rivers that rush to the sea
Of lull-a-sigh quivers in yon poplar tree
Of ballads where nothing but air plucks the strings
Where baby-dear slumbers and mother-dear sings
And flower-lid droops, its ambrosial grail
A-readied for honey-bee’s wake-up wassail
So, let the wind howl; a churl, burly and brusque
He can’t reach the girl lost in sweet summer dusk

© Janet Martin

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