Michael R. Collings, 'The Invitation'

[duathir.livejournal.com]

The Invitation

In August, when banked roadside roses bloom,
Pale yellow moons in glossy emerald leaves;
When tiger swallowtails alight on eaves
And rest a breath from flight to groom
Prismatic wings, then, with a swirl, resume
Unhurried flit from uncut phlox to sheaves
Of lilies thrusting from stiff, unfurled sleeves,
Golden splendor from mid-summer’s womb;

Then we shall meet again at the old home park,
Beneath sage cottonwoods and maple trees
Where we, as children, once outsang the lark
And thought we might outwing the solemn bees,
Where I incised your name in livelong bark,
And you repaid my kiss with innocent ease.

By Michael R. Collings