The colors play across
the sheets.
The sunshine leaves little
star bursts behind my eyes.
It smells of summer:
mown grass and night,
the deep black enveloping
everything
except the moon.
It is invincible.
The song of the wind,
it plays against the angular
corners of the house,
whistling gaily in my ears.
You could count the stars,
millions and millions,
looking down on you.
Guardians.
The petals dance, and
the ground moistens,
and the hyacinths grow.
Celebratory glory.
The sun rises high, and the
heat becomes part of me.
Changes.
My window is open, and
in blows summer.
