When The World Is Full of June

 Twilight perches upon a dew and dust kissed pedestal...

The earth runs green with majesty of not yet sun-scorched grass

The sky is like a sweep of deep blue sea where cloud-ships pass

The garden is a wonder-world unfurled in flower-flares

And draws even the atheist to worship unawares

The countryside is like an errant splash of paradise

A free-for-all buffet where we may come and feast our eyes

On regal iris, courtly lupine, ruffled peony

To revel, nature-wealthy in June’s lap of luxury

We sense friendships rekindled with graces that we expect

Like hymns of feathered minstrels from limbs sun and shadowed-decked

Like the lush, rush of rivers that we hear but no one sees

As sweet and sassy zephyrs ripple through leaf-canopies

The parks are dotted with bobbing balloons with legs and arms

Chased by larger, slower balloons sounding caution’s alarms

Where picnics become anything but dreamy; yet its mess

Still has a funny way of turning into happiness

The river-bank is flanked with fishermen and fav’rite brews

Where some come to be young again and some to sit and snooze

And some to read and some to glean a poem-gem (or five)

And some who want for nothing, just content to be alive

The fields flaunt faith’s first answers; farmers pray for no late frost

Porches boast perfect planters, not yet to neglect’s ‘oops’ lost

The lily-chalice spills its port to butterflies and bees

As moments sparkle and cavort through almost-memories

Twilight perches upon a dew and dust kissed pedestal

A masterpiece that lingers longer on earth’s westward sill

So then we linger longer too, enchanted by a tune

That never fails to thrill us when the world is full of June

© Janet Martin