Along a short hot summer

I’ve scaled the trails

Thru’ woods and meadows

Valleys and mountains

Along brooks running only

With a trickle

Extreme heat stirred up

Hordes of insects

Irritating.

 

The shading woods

Magnificent as a retreat

You’ll push on along

Some open roads

Cool down your heated up

Body with a draft

At a known wayside inn.

 

Never mind the buzzing

Flies

The restless rush of

Swarming cars

You’ll soon flee back

To field and trail

The smell of fresh-cut

Grass.

 

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’18.