Thoughts of Sumnmers Past

I sit here this July day, sad and lost.
The sky is grey, wet leaves by the restless wind are tossed.
Outside the window, tall pink anemones dance tapping the window pane.
Suddenly the wind drops. Fierce and straight like prison bars falls heavy rain.

All is dark, no point of light indicates the time of time or year.
Now is the chance to dream of summers past, vivid memories, clear.
Drift along the gentle southlands inviting gate to grassy meadows.
Wander here, where grasses sway and large white daisies grow.

Among drowsy buzzing bees and the fragrance of newly cut hay.
Rest awhile, inhale the splendours of this lovely summers day.
Stroll again towards distant woods of Oak and beech so proud.
The sky of deepest blue is splashed with cotton wool clouds.

Even yet, in shade, lingers fine gossamer web between the flowers.
The Turtledove sings his soothing song from hidden bowers.
Linger awhile beneath elegant Sweeping boughs of the beech.
Touch and Caress the fresh green leaves within your reach.

Enfold your arm around its smooth sensual bough.
Be at one with nature and form a life-long affinity now.
It's growing late with the golden rays of the setting sun.
The silhouetted trees stand silent awaiting the coolness of the night to come.

The earth and sky combine in glorious kaleidoscope of colour.
No breath of wind or bird do utter as the sky grows duller.
The moon now rides high to show her silver image upon the river.
The shimmering light flows on into the sea forever.

Jeffrey Rowles