Summer in Words of One Syllable

by Duncan Dwelle, June 1996


 

It is the warmth which greets you first,
wraps you in smooth arms,
charms you with soft breath,
and breaks the news of birth on the dawn.

Now the birds, whose songs alone
had not yet torn through veils of dream,
sweep sleep from mind’s door
and call you to the sharp edge of wake.

Light comes next in one strong thrust
which makes its sole aim known:
this day can't wait to primp or plan.

You must get up and face the sun,
your task to fill the cask of life
with not a drop to waste

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