Summer Night

A page turning winter
Lost to the flaring embers carried through the roots.
Vitality starts, a wind whisper, the gleaming scything rays reborn from frozen eddies.
The balm, heady scent from receding verdant spears. A whirlwind of color to the dream of sense and reason.
Untold, unspoken gods, epitaphs offered to the wind.
A palm thrust to the earth; pulsing fervor in azure blood, not a voice to cry out when banners raise.
Eyes of the stars, blades of the forest, sand cloaked mantles fluttering on an unseen breath.
The creature of summer cannot be contained, defined, caressed to comfort. You cannot kneel to its muzzle and feel it’s quivering, soft breath.
You kneel at the precipice, the melting rivers feeding out into the shadowed mountains.

Wake.

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I wrote this when someone asked me what came to mind when I thought of a summer night. Might as well submit this today.

Enjoy.