summer song

I lay so long on the open lawn

I gathered dew in my fist

Peppered by music in my ears

A solemn vow to be kissed.

The trees above they shed their leaves

falling about my mouth

The birds were crying against the clouds

long on their journey South.

The few begin the hard won Road

snatched from undergrowth,

the use of machetes tore at green

in silence they cut with stealth.

No machine out here

Upon the verge, of latent falling wings

the chainmail mist hung with the urge

to sample a knight’s last fling.

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