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The summer
burns at 98 degrees;
The goldfinch sings, untroubled by the heat;
As drought makes tinder of the maple trees,
He scatters notes like raindrops, mild and sweet,
Above the gas pumps and the mini-mart
Where I sit in a haze of dust and fumes.
Oil-black and butter-gold, a winged heart,
He lingers where the ripened thistle blooms,
Then soars to greet the loved one on her nest,
Tossed sunwards like a coin, in looping flight —
Oh, laughing jewel of summer, come to rest,
And cool me with your wings, block out the light,
And sing, until I care no more than you
What storms will overtake the dust I knew.
© 2009 by Ellin
Anderson. All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be copied or used in any way
without written permission from the author. |
