June days, by noon Promethean –
summer stretches before us
from clocks.  Calendars
are a faint memory, their pages
rippled by the breeze.  Turn them slowly,
Zephyr. Leave us this time to count the stars,
to taste the fruit, luscious
                 in its fleshy sweetness.
Let us linger in the wonder
of extravagant bloom
                       and resonant wing.
Butterflies, dragonflies,
a hummingbird hovering at 1200
heartbeats a minute.  Intoxicating
guitars and bonfires, the wild rhythms
of resilient Earth,
                             the continuum
of generations.  We savor these hours.