I love my trees; they listen so intent to all my thoughts.

Trees in Summer

Trees in summer are paradise green

Resting not idly on the grass under the tree’s canopy

Watching clouds float across the sky not wasting time

The trees refreshed us as a long wave of warmth crossed our bodies

And then a flooding sea of desert heat

The relentless song of the cicadas, the work of a dry voice beyond death

Mortal in its phenomenology, but immortal in its power

The silence of shimmering veins of air

Personal clouds stagnate and hang

Only trees and breezes abate the clang of despair.