the sun burns the grass and the ferns, they melt under a bright sky, roughening, like the tongue of a cat, the grass with its brown sandpapers.
the flowers pray for me and my watering can, on a dirt track the water splashes and the earth drinks deep, the trees shiver at the thought of water, their branches sway, this is to dance - leaves with patterns scattering - leafy shade and pools of bright sun.
drawn out of the air a drawbridge of breeze raising its portcullis and suddenly the heat is bearable, shadows and sun like a patchwork quilt.
we wait for summer, tender-eyed, smouldering in the heat, the trees like colossal statues of bronze stretching branches beneath the canopy of a green sea in a dream spun from ebony.
i kiss you, grazed by this orient sun, my heart seeking yours, my legs longing for your legs, my limbs threading with yours while summer sings of her forgotten ghosts.