The summer season singes skin
And tans the tops of tallest trees
When I was young, the ground was browned
With sunburned grass and fresh-baked soil
An arid gust blows through the trees
With weathered, wrinkled bark, with leaves
Once green, now shades of gold or brown
Or gnawed by pests or plagued with spots.
They all come floating to the earth.
The winds sweep past me, swirling leaves
That dance around me. One more chance
One sliver left of life before
The summer wind shall pass it by.
And down among the worms in holes
Or cracks upon the thirsty soil
They lie, a field of bodies browned
Like children’s skin, as we did play
All summer long among the fields
Still young and nimble, full of sweat
And blood and life, no blemish mark
Or scar or tear, or tears to cry,
For life had not yet weathered us.
Like sprouting buds we sought the sun
Though it may burn. It warmed us up
And in our minds that was enough
As, crunching dead leaves underfoot,
We danced throughout the summer months
Among the tallest, bare-branched trees