Sun
Hot sun beating down
summer breeze
reminds me of
The woods,
the stream that ran by
forts left unfinished in childish play
The fields with the grass so high
lupins rolling over soft hills
dancing among the trees
cold stream falling merrily along
by moss covered rocks
scaling the elfin mountains
the moss damp and cool,
sprinkled by the stream
Sneaking through the pines
sent of pine permeates
sap stickily scents the hands
sneaking from the woods in to open field
a bush laden with fruit
Raspberries fresh picked still veiled in dew
stuffed with jubilation in mouths
eager for their sweetness.
Slipping back within the folds of the midnight forest
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