Forever Summer
Like rosehip jam the evening spreads,
transforming blue to pinks and reds.
The tender palms of summer’s hold
suspend the twilight’s deepening fold
to where forever seems to sway
between the pulse of night and day.
These honeyed hours, this transient flow
of scented breath must never go,
and every night the darkened skies
must wink with sacred fireflies.
And yet, if summer evenings breach
the crisp domain of autumn’s reach,
this brief caress of balmy nights
will fail to bring such rich delights—
as fireflies would cease to shine,
and lose their spark of the divine.
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