Summers

Conclusion
You moved towards the roll of hay that I was perched upon
which was in turn, perched upon a great hill.
The occasional bracing wind heralded the end of summer
and so too did our celebrations.

I glanced at you, glazy-eyed and confused,
like the un-caged tiger,
drunk off the sleepless night,
and perplexed by the prematurely arriving morning.
You picked grass from your top as I picked hay from the bundle
and placed it in my mouth, like a cowboy
or a driver, just with hay instead of a pick.

You moved to me, and you reached
to get where I was.
I took your hands in mine,
and lifted, but it was hard to maintain balance
in a world of precariousness,
but you made it all the same.

You slotted yourself into my lap, with your hands on my knees,
and your hair blowing in my face
And for a moment the melancholy was lifted
and unbridled happiness was charmed like a snake.
It broke out amongst us and the zephyr's tips wrapped around you and me,
and we felt the brushing heat of summer and the innocence that came with it,
but the moment ended.

Then we both picked hay together

and ignored the painted canvas behind us
of many, many trees
and leaves too, waltzing in the morning wind
and silhouetting the overcast horizon,
because we were turned inwards, huddled together, and embracing friends.