Lazy days of summer beckon.
Close the shop and take advantage.
Such beauty can be born of
doing nothing much at all.

Become the scent of wildflowers
drifting in the wind. Know the glow
of sun that glistens, deep into
your skin. Fly on high, a butterfly
set loose from its cocoon.

Ah then, the fall will come again.
Breezes crisping in the wind.
Industrious, the will begins
another great ascent. So easy
then, the numb of winter's freeze.

A mill to grind the summer's grain
to flour for the bread. And yet, no
matter how we seek a warmth
within the icy flows of mind alone,
only love that's true will ever come
to warm our nights into another
hopeful day of springtime growth.

Lazy days of summer beckon.
Again and yet again, we're asked
to learn essential lessons. Yet lazing
there, within a blooming meadow,
what lessons can we learn...? If
not the one that makes us true
to this, our living nature...

? Michaelette ?