Flowing, glowing
strands of wheat,
blowing lightly in the breeze.

Jealous summer sky
overcome
by your eyes.

Smooth, clean skin,
sweet scent,
like laundry hung out to dry.

The flavor of moonbeams
cannot contend with
the delicate taste of your lips.

The softness of your voice
more beautiful than
a nightingale's song.

Dripping skies
crow clouds,
obstructed view of heaven.
Bright burning sun,
unceasing effort to melt,
the dismal blanket of gray.
To throw off the heavy winter cloak,
bringing life back to the wasteland.