Poetry

Hazy the new summer day does hang,
the sky is deep cobalt blue
and here and there the dew of the night does glisten
when the new morning comes in her glory
and in the early morn the moment is tranquil and silent
when only the cries of the plovers do resound
before sunlight tremble over the windows of the house
and its then when a person does think about deeper things.
In the backyard rose bushes rock
in a light wind that only touches here and there
and there are vegetables in rows on the red ground
where you are watering and unexpectedly do spray me wet
and that cold jet of water
does break my thoughts.