Like the dirt we swept
away with our broom
when we let it
accumulate in June,
the warmer months
will make me new,
and soothe the snake in you.

We prune our roses
to make them bloom,
the warmer months bring
the birds that sing their tunes,
and the lilies and the lilacs
and the ladybugs too.

Like the fawn will
feed on the hay,
the dawn will
lead to the day,
and I'll wear my
hands away
to bring you what I grew.

Like a yellow harvest moon
our hearts will glow
together, unfettered by
stars that swoon.
Like the butter you
churned and poured
from the urn, gently,
melt me into you.