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.