Summer Solstice

Where stark blue night,

wages war against yellow day,

and dandelions wait on the sun,

And the moon stands silent,

enveloped in darkness that is

invaded by a halo of light,

And wisps of white sail

across a field of pink

pungent, effeminate,

And bees buzz timeless,

working for a queen,

a lazy hypocrite,

And little drops of dew,

are slapped off strips,

of infinite green,

by enthusiastic feet,

that need step twice,

to cover a distance,

a distance plot by a man.

Caravans, led by weary

injured horses,that step,

forward, intermittently,

knowing their toil,

can not be without reason,

and their hope, fiery,

leads them on, to move,

struggle against the wind,

the heat, and the incessant prodding.

Parched desert, held from change,

by massive walls of concrete,

and prisoner of sizzling tar

where rubber slashes mercilessly,

against the ground; speeding

toward just another destination.

But giggles fill the quiet,

of the countryside morning,

and the breeze runs merrily on,

merrily on, carrying tidings of peace.