“The complexion of summer is found in reflection”
Where I bed
Rendered by the wind
Journeying parallel to my stillness
Thoughts bristle against its course
Like the conversation of grass.
Buttercups lift the breathless air.
Beating chirps from tiny wings
Praise the Sabbath of this simple day
My skin bleached by the eye of summer light
From so many nameless summers
Innocent in their numbers
Dressed in leaf and lemon frock
Chronicled in the abyss of time
That foam to my memory like surf
Which I can recite
From the contours of a delicate masterpiece
That detonates
To the syntax of an idle summer ballad.
As I listen
I remember nothing of today drying past. Motionless
I meditate in the direction of wisdom
Transcend my nameless, petrified carcass
And nothing of summers amber shade
Will remember the blank verse
Of my brittle silhouette
Infuriated by bellows of unrushed heat
My truth purged from any common thought.
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