Softly drifts the summer’s hush
that dearly holds the moments still,
while willow leaves, in rhythm captured,
relent to memory’s greater will.
Bathed in scents of summer green,
as waning light gives way to dusk,
through garden’s verdant flush is twilled,
delivered sweet as warm day’s musk,
till here, in rest, retires…
Fresh cut summer grass,
ripened sweet tomato vine,
lavender in burgeoned bloom
adrift the dreams I call as mine.
Upon this season’s moment caught
I poll my histories’ waking,
recall these scents and breezes blushed
amidst the points of my own making…
Imbibe such sweet elixir,
grant my swim into the fold,
here moments passed form truth and treasure
to all the love and life I hold.