Summer's a girl who takes you by the hand saying Come...
Birdsong in the dawn,
with each stroke of the paddles
open churned water gurgles,
mist over the pond.
this day, she whispers, not any day but this day, Come...
Bright sun pouring through
fresh new leaves hanging tender,
grass just cut from the mower,
kite spins in the blue.
right now; at the words with your heart leaping wildly, Come...
Scent through the curtains,
roses and honeysuckle,
far away water-chuckle,
night breeze uncertain.
not yet, she says wait...
...a butterfly kiss and she's gone.
~ Ian Barth
