Clement

Sunny days, by noon Promethean –
summer stretches before us
                   disconnected
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 memories…
guitars and bonfires, the wild rhythms
of resilient Earth,
                    the continuum of generations.

We savor these hours.

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