Is sweetest summer on the wane
Surely tis too soon
Morning runs taken in cooling air
find cicada rhythms slowing down,
this running rhythm running my life,
my cicada, my cicada, my cicada,
constant in summer air through morn,
noon, or sultry lovers nights, never ready to trade you down for winters
antiseptic silent days,
no beats to my inner drum
runs taken relished now
in fading summers sun.
Ti kōuka palms out in full flower
a sight against blue skies
their heady scent olfactory delight
wafts on as I power by
'she's' running again & headed 'home'
to her beloved Maungakiekie
mourns summers imminent end
as all its beauty's she does name,
with feet a'fire and hair aflame,
in passing summers sun.

J.C. "little meep" 26/03/2019