Beneath a lovers’ moon,
Summer breezes in.
In still-cool primrose evenings
lingering from spring,
she whispers in my ear.
I hear. . .
honey bees near lilacs,
whippoorwills in leafy trees,
and somewhere. . .
A hoot owl in the night.
Beneath a beaming sun,
Summer carries on
inhaling and exhaling sultry days.
On languid afternoons beyond
a yellow flowered meadow, she finds me
as I wade into a stream. Warmly,
she breathes upon my cheek. I feel. . .
the squish of mud beneath my toes,
cool water all around me, and
tiny tadpoles flitting round my knees.
Beneath an autumn moon,
Summer slips away
sigh. . .ing into
still-hot waning days.
I smell her fragrance in the blooms
of asters that I pluck;
I see her in a golden-glitter dusk and
I hear her in the cries
of wild geese across the sky
calling out to me her last goodbye.