Summer is synaptic,
buried under brittle, white grass.
The other solstice just past,
slowly lengthening light.
Hidden, hibernating limbs
hold the burn of long-day, slow-passage sun,
lightly
fading.
Heat disappearing signals the promise of return.
Swathed skin waits.
linked to Random acts of poetry at HighCallingBlogs
2 comments:
"buried under brittle, white grass"
Really nice. I can see it, feel it. Great image.
i have to watch out for the sun too.
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