Tis’ But a Long Day in the Endless Summer

Listen to the sounds of the morning birds.
They chirp in their cots staring blankly into the unreachable tree top ceiling.
Before the sun,
Before the morning cock rings his metallic clangs.
Listen to the sounds of the morning birds.

The ants, shoes polished and laces by the queen tied.
They March in long lines of dark ink.
Watch them travail with sheets of bread crumbs upon their backs.
The morning won’t last forever
How little do the ants know
In the noon and eve.
The collected crumbs will become loaves.
Shoes polished star black by the queen, the ants, they march.

The bees buzzing behind bashful blossoms.
Clumsy and insecure
The sunflower in midday
Nothing more beautiful or purer.
Impatient and hasty, a bee buzzes his tune
The flowers turn, perhaps to find another suitor.
All but one,
One who welcomes the ambitious stripped adolescent.
Fluttering wings coming to a halt,
Laying still upon pollen,
Cuddling the petals
One bee, never to leave.
One bee, resting upon the bosom of a sweet, bashful blossom.

Rabbits prancing about their holes in new found gardens.
Going down in pairs.
Bouncing out in fours, sixs  and dozens.
Two fluffy white rabbits
Scurried around in the morn gathering carrots.
One or two carrots alone.
Twenty four together.
Rabbits and their holes.
Gathering carrots forever.

Stray cats and their kittens.
Until kittens grow claws.
Cats and no kittens, return to licking each other’s paws.

Night owls wide eyed.
Not a mate in sight.
Wisdom and the dead of night, their sole comfort.
wings labour, onwards to the moon.
Memories of a summer’s morning, evening and afternoon.