Ode to summer
The Coloradan summer
Has once again come
With a gush of eastern breeze
Running through the veins of Shiraz vines
Soaking the jest of life
From the cradle of dust
- The essence of youth and decay.
How many more are hidden for me?
Of bees and sparrows
Of wandering lazy dogs
Of memories that have lost their meaning
Of clouds that come, linger in wet,
And hurriedly disappear over the blackened horizon
The enemy is sitting on my wrist
The morning breeze
And the evening rain
Pouring on the fragrance of gorgeous blooms.
A boy from the east
Sitting on a bench
Dedicated to a Mr. Busch
Alien to the concepts of time and immigration
With the same summer in his face
That he discovered 60 years ago
In the dusty, poor and desirous allies
Of a forgotten Shiraz.
Denver, July 09, 2007