A Sonnet for Summer
When the first breath is lifted, cool and sweet,
Daunting ill-tempered devils at their play
A-whirl with sand in teeth while they belay
The eyes and throat with dust; first breath when heat
Is still and stultifying, and the beat
Of heart and lungs are ominous and gray
Within the silence, when oppressive day
Poisons the thickened air… A sudden, fleet
First breath becomes anew a living thing
With beating heart and wings, a rapt embrace
With kisses kind as love upon the wing;
A furtive thing that flew from some far place
On bright-winged feet, yet nestles near to cling
A fearless lover in the first sweet grace.
Whispers at morning
among the beautiful things
earth gives us small joys:
rapid breath of baby birds
ruffling new feathers at dawn.