Days that skate on summer's
North wind, hard by the edge
Of a bedraggled sea, still unkempt
In this best-adorned season;
Dusks that fade into
Iridescent stillness, portions of
Unfinished night waiting for
The indiscretion of fog;
Midnights twice wrapped around
The moon's waning charisma
And muffled behind the
Mad world's eyelids;
Dawns barely perceived by
Any but the waking swallow,
A petty drizzle of new light
Romantic only to youth.
I will trade you all these
For a single endless afternoon
In the warmth of the sun.