Monday, July 5, 2010

A poem about summer?

Buttoned up, gloved
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,
Heat disappearing signals the promise of return.
Swathed skin waits.

 linked to Random acts of poetry at HighCallingBlogs


L.L. Barkat said...

"buried under brittle, white grass"

Really nice. I can see it, feel it. Great image.

Anonymous said...

i have to watch out for the sun too.