Summer Mirage
by Frank Watson
I asked for spring
but this sweaty night
told me it was summer
so instead I sing
of sleepy streams.

There was a willow
that held the birds and
ants in equal harmonium
but its kings,

(you see, there were many,
but just one queen)

were the honeybees
that sang around their nectar pot:

for honey is the liquor
of summer nights under
flickering stars and talk
while holding a fruity drink.

But what of summer?

We remember
when the earth turns cold:

a cliff above the beach

a woman’s garter
waiting to be reached



Note: posted on dVerse Poet's Open Link Night. Join in if you have a chance!
All writings and translations are Copyright © by Frank Watson, also writing as "Blue Flute" (2011-2014).
Year: 
2012