"Air without stripes" - Barbara Guest
Pools blue as hydrangeas,
rocks sick with white
inflamed in light's desire
that twinkles as the wind soothes by,
for the sun demands a mirror
in the thinnest of skins and leaves,
even the flower-bloated bees
that come out from honeysuckle
hidden in the vine battalion depths
to ignite the air with the hue of their cry
stew in their own juices
yearning to cool, leaning to nests
as if nature was one long, lascivious bed
for sleep that swims in visions.
All that can live
is alive now
this large day.
Summer must be
as leisurely as streams,
as generous as crystal
to hold it all inside.
