Fusion

In the sizzling heat She wears new a furry mink The sly little fox Now its brimming cold He dared bare himself of skin The wily serpent And what racket here The cricket makes through the night The bats cannot hear. The rain is singing The roof plays her pop songs sweet Clouds dance on the street A little black boy Playing upon the blind rock A trope for lost joy Naked on the sand No season tells tropic time The sun milks the hand. The eye milks the sun For gold leaves waiting to fall No fruits on bare limbs.