On canvasses of rolling green summer employs its will
On parchment unmarred and pristine a poet’s passions spill
Into the dell, on hill and field summer flings floral font
Against the knell of thought’s appeal a poet bleeds his
vaunt
On moss and bracken tapestry summer releases rain
Across midnight serenity a poet frees his pain
As summer’s dawn breaks through the deep and day is new
again
The poet rouses from his sleep to feed his hungry pen
On filament of sky and sod summer unfurls its mien
The poet sees the hand of God within earth’s mezzanine
And in the aftermath of summer all that will remain to see
Are the paths where poets wander searching for His poetry
© Janet Martin
