March I

I.

A humid breeze tickles the leaves
In summer’s simmering swelter
The smell o’ straw and flower’s fall
Drunk upon her nectar

Mindless mammals “Rabble Rabble”
To the tune of a tire’s humming
While birds and bees scour the trees
Parading for the new offspring

The lakes now crest and the waves rest
While fish flounder their days
And young men spy apples in eyes
Of all the comely maids

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