Thunder for bees soar through the cloudless sky,
With infrequent arguments audible from afar,
The summer sun would continue to blaze from on high,
Until resting time, when new light would contest with the stars.

Flowing hair gently blanketed the forest seats,
Stumps sat upon by figures both unwashed and radiant,
The beautiful women wove ornate coloured sheets,
Weaving countless garments of many colours and variants.

Countless scents wafted through the still, warm air,
Grapes adorning my fingers I laid back contented,
The great trunk to my back serving as armchair,
Sun's warmth soaking into the air, still and scented.

Alone in good company I silently rested,
Restoration and regeneration unintentionally gifted,
Those outside and afar finally bested,
From below I was finally lifted.