Float, float away does the summer warmth
Which tickles and flirts across paling browned skin
Rustle and sing do the still green branches
Chirping and white noise come from within
Shimmer, quiver, oh! how the man-made pond does quake!
First cold is warm where the wind does not waltz; glimmer does the world where sun fleetingly lingers
Love me! begs the stiff latch, Want me! cries the overgrown green
Circle, circle does life go. Slurp the freshness! Drown in its richness! Burnt is the conscience of quiet singers