Summer Place

winters death still on the ground
as spring slips quietly over
seasons age summer winter falling down
paint tree bark with colors grey
and gold and trunk that stands
roots reaching down to source within
as limbed hands reach gracefully up
to welcome sun and rain and sparrow
fast asleep begin to stir as though
the whispers carry new songs as
we all feel the stirring in our marrow
as old bones cold bones return
to summer places and look for
what was lost for a time but not
gone only temporarily abandoned
for hearth and shuttered windows
now thrown open flung wide
to nascent rampant blossom leaf
and grasses sassy and sweet waving
hello to earth and life and breath
buzzing wakens all and soon they will
return to cook and laugh and share
a cool drink up the shade and have
your fill for summer only lasts
a blink and think of fall around the
bend but not for now we dream
of sun to come and say goodnight
to snow and gray and sleep
awake awake and be in not
of the landscape of your dreams
it seems it waits for you

photograph by BJ Bumgarner

Please visit his Flickr page

5 thoughts on “Summer Place

  1. paschal

    Lovelies: we all feel the stirring in our marrow, to nascent rampant blossom leaf, grasses sassy, and this choice blossom: be in not / of the landscape of your dreams.

    1. Dee Post author

      I have fallen in love with the word nascent, a jewel from Muravia. I hope you are recovering from allergic dancing. Rain coming in again here. It blesses us as it washes the yellow pollen away.

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