Summer comes, breezes blow
Around a fragrant land
No hardship, no anguish
Oh no.
Birds fly,
Feed their young
Crops grow reaching up
To
The hot, hot sun.
Fawns frolic in meadows
Hidden, lost in woods
Silent except for all the wonders
Filling summer
Beneath a summer sun.
~ Patrice
@ Patrice Clarkson – 2020