A Dream of Summer
From my retreat, I doze
watching white swirls
dance past my windowsill
And counting the growing collection of
Glaciers under my roof
While wrapped in a warm blanket, ignoring the
Bite of chill that clings to my toes, while
Seated in a chair, in front of the window
Yet leagues away from a tree - an oak dead
asleep with the onset of winter,
set to wake at the sight of spring.
Quiet, calm and covered in frost it waits
And dreams of an August breeze and the golden suns of June,
showers of April, and flowers of May
mayhap, I am the same
and as I close my eyes
I dream of summer.
This is actually a rewrite of an earlier poem of mine that I had to do for class.