One lingering look up
At the cool green geometry
Of poplar and locust
Spiraling to fill space in the sky,
I am reminded of times before
When I felt at home
within the graceful line and angle
Of white oak and maple together,
Happy among the trees.
Now hot sun, past solstice slant
Cuts sharp through the woods
Emphasizing the importance
Of light on leaf and limb.
I dreamed of days like this
When trunks seemed sharp sticks
Rising dark into winter air,
And I shivered at the clatter
Of spiny fingers against the window.
But once again the sounds and smells of summer
Swallow me whole.
Butternut and handsome beech grow beside me,
And together we are alive in the prime of this perfect season.