Poem by Alice M. Swaim

"Green Summer"   

No farther than my fingertips,

No weightier than a rose,

The essence of green summer slips Into a waiting pose.  

The tilted bowl of heaven

Has spilled its blue and gold

Among the vines and grasses

Where autumn is foretold.  

Skylarks trill the melody,

Crickets cry it over;

Summer hides her mystery

In fields of hay and clover.    


As featured on
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Words inspired by the garden are the sweetest, most beautiful words of all.
Alice Mackenzie Swaim
Alice Mackenzie Swaim