The wintry wind has brought the snow; the trees are bare and lost their glow;
absent is the hearkening starling’s song.
The summer’s warmth is high and thin, the summer geese have left, again
the bright and cheery grasp of summer, gone.
I walk along the bubbling stream covered in snow like shaving cream;
the bottom rocks now blackened to my eye.
the sound of swishing in the trees is like a murmur in the breeze
sparrows noisily fighting, passing by.
Along this stream in summer time, I like to sit with rested mind
up against a cottonwood and gaze
far beyond the water’s edge, up the hill and past the hedge
at fields of corn and ripened wheat, ablaze
in the soaking rays of the summer sun; those lazy days stacked full of fun
that make the imagination come alive
like when I saw a fairy, who, blended with the water’s hue
and danced in tune with a beautiful dragonfly.
I stop and reach down for a rock and throw and skip it toward a block
of logs out in the middle of the stream
jammed up high like a superdome built by beavers for a home
as we all await another summer dream.
(third stanza reference to my poem, ‘Cottonwood Stream’ January, 2012)
(fourth stanza reference to my poem, ‘Fairy Jolie’ January, 2012)
© copyright 2013 t. j. gargano