Poem: Summer Me

Hazy meets the summer morn

Fields full ripe with golden corn

Heavy green,

the leaf in tree

Bramble tangled thorn,berry, bee

1000 starlings swirl the sky

Mixing twirling screech & cry

While clinging frail to a fresh mown lawn

The myriad drops of a dew showered dawn

My bike rolls free

Through the morning me

Fresh the red in a ripe apple tree

I whistle, I sing, while words fly by,

Some while a bit longer

Some catch my eye

Build pictures

Build moments

Build rhyme rhythm song

For you who I look for

Will I tell my story

These summer days long.

Liam Berlin Aug 2014