Cascade of flowing vines
Mushrooms pushing through soft logs
The movement half glimpsed,
From the corner of your eyes
Cicadas buzz and hum softly then loudly
Lichen grows on damp rocks

They say that moss only grows
On the left sides of trees - or was it the right?
Pillow soft and dew beaded
Nature's cushion
Nature's stage for a round fairy ring
Secluded den

A centaur moves beneath the trees,
Dappled skin glowing
In yellow green light
Dainty steps
And the growing of things

Still waters run deep
Has always been the saying,
And rolling stones gather no moss
But here the still waters are shallow
And the stones are thick with moss - even though they roll
Every part is touched by light
And warmth

Glittering light picks highlights off the water
Catches the stir of algae,
As a pike breaks the surface
A turtle on a rock, limbs spread out
Butterflies gather on low branches
Hanging moss

Can you hear the birdsong?
The whir of hummingbird wings
Bees buzz 'round a busy hive
There are dryads nearby
Keeping watch over
The bright little fen

Life grows in a swamp
The croak of frogs and the chirp of crickets
The sway of cattails in the breeze
The bend of soft, sweet, grass
Mossy puddle
Rich with life

Sweet smell of rot, of plant decay
The buzz of insects,
Zip of dragonflies hunting for a meal
Lily pads float lazily
While a heron stalks its prey

Tadpoles wiggle in the mire
Sunlight warms the green water
There's something about the life of a swamp,
The deep mud,
And deeper waters

A flash of brighter green
In a field of dry grass
Vivid eyes, focused and clear
Reeds sway in the Zephyr Steppes
Borne on strong breezes

Calm face and sturdy footing
Dappled like the sun stained grass
Paper lanterns blow in the clear sky
Whoever said that Tundras couldn't know the wind
Couldn't know the directions it blows in?

Skydancers and Spirals don't
Own the skies after all
And he has always known the wind
The different scents
How the scent of the sea blows in from Water
And the breeze is bitter cold when it comes from Ice
How the smell of white hot metal
Makes the air so hot

When the sun sets
The golden hour calls
Sun motes to dance
Across the grass,
Flicker in the bamboo shoots

These eyes know
How to spot spider threads
Turned into glorious
Sunlit things
We are drenched in honey

Made of light
We spin in gentle circles
Lined with sweetness
Soft hum of cicadas
This is the most
Beautiful time of all

Here come the summer peepers
Frog chorus in warm nights
Telling the tales
Of sun-drenched days
And full stomachs

Owls call in the dark,
Finding field mice
Fat from golden grains
Tasting of wheat berries
And marigolds

Apple blossoms
Send sweetness,
Laying heavy on balmy air
A breeze of cherries,
Bright red and **** sweet -
These are the sights
Smells and tastes
Of summer