Morning
Softly fall the bright yellow beams
Across the hardwood floor.
Awaken as the skillet scrapes
Across the iron stove.
In rhythm with the fizz and pop
As eggs and bacon fry,
And blending with the wind-chime song
Of black-capped chickadees.
Afternoon
Ambrosia air breathes calming scents
Of grass and lake and farm.
Pillow-down clouds and sultry sun
Reflect on sleeping ponds.
The sounds of summer pulse and course
On waves of humid air.
The maple crack of a wooden bat;
July's favorite pastime.
Evening
The apricot horizon fades
and bows to glowing moon;
While fireflies flare and fade into
The silver stars above.
As mellow as the mourning dove,
The distant owl sings.
Sleep well tonight, for tomorrow will be,
Another midsummer's day.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
Morning
Softly fall the bright yellow beams
Across the hardwood floor.
Awaken as the skillet scrapes
Across the iron stove.
In rhythm with the fizz and pop
As eggs and bacon fry,
And blending with the wind-chime song
Of black-capped chickadees.
Afternoon
Ambrosia air breathes calming scents
Of grass and lake and farm.
Pillow-down clouds and sultry sun
Reflect on sleeping ponds.
The sounds of summer pulse and course
On waves of humid air.
The maple crack of a wooden bat;
July's favorite pastime.
Evening
The apricot horizon fades
and bows to glowing moon;
While fireflies flare and fade into
The silver stars above.
As mellow as the mourning dove,
The distant owl sings.
Sleep well tonight, for tomorrow will be,
Another midsummer's day.
