LOST SUMMER

My place is not yours

it hides in the blush

of summer every year

it climbs in the clouds

on winged bliss

as laced ferns bend

as tall birch trees

pierce the morning dew

It is the place I go

when the dentist drills

or I duel sadness

I lunge in the face

of wet wildflowers

lichen licking rock

noble leaves

on dignified pine trees

The lake has changed

people push the water

instead of hearing it

beyond nature’s hope

where no one heeds

the moths at dusk

or the way light

dissolves into the landscape

There is a wise hymn

in the heat of July

that I carry in the trunk

as I drive to see you

I squeeze the synergy

of a lost summer

in my sandals

in jars of jam