Two lovebirds snuggle
in the shade of a weeping willow,
oblivious to chastising honks
of Canadian geese.
Blushing buds begin to bloom,
swollen with anticipation
as the solstice draws near
and blood boils beneath the skin.
Weathered voyeurs train watchful eyes
on the short-lived marriage of the flesh,
scoffing at the consummation of seasons,
knowing the fickle nature of the sun.
When the geese fly south, so will he.