If the summer could
sing the song
of my heart

she’d sing in the
mallow greys of a
fading canopy of light

across the face of time
gold as the
golden grass that

flows between us
where the long lazy gaze
of the sky is bound

in fields of evening blue
I find you there
in the silence of infinity

as we become
this place transposed
a gateway of guesses

(if you would have me)
as I cross the bask
of slow and dying winds

of midsummer
the larks sing serine
stand in a flightless

shading of grip and character
like the soft and quiet oaks
only if the summer could

© K. James Ribble