poetry & things

Summer song

Woods, the birds on branches, swing

words, the forest trees, will sing

of summer winds, a leafy song of green

blue the sky is painting, not a cloud

only the sparkling of sun, a song

of mosses warmed, a fragrance undone

black and fuzzy yellow bees, circle hypnotically

tiny hunters, drunk with pollen, disappearing

in the tiger lily towers, and fly they

home to serve a sacred queen

all the day, the sweetness

of gathering honey

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