Summer Mirage

I asked for spring

but this sweaty night

told me it was summer

so instead I sing

of sleepy streams.

There was a willow

that held the birds and

ants in equal harmonium

but its kings,

(you see, there were many,

but just one queen)

were the honeybees

that sang around their nectar pot:

for honey is the liquor

of summer nights under

flickering stars and talk

while holding a fruity drink.

But what of summer?

We remember

when the earth turns cold:

a cliff above the beach

a woman’s garter

waiting to be reached

Note: posted on dVerse Poet's Open Link Night. Join in if you have a chance!