Summer Nights

Beneath the willow
blooms a dove-grey
peony of pigeons
huddled around
a dish of corn

on the lawn, a bee
tremulously trundles,
in ever decreasing
circles, like a child’s
clockwork toy...

the lights on my terrace –
thick with vine leaves,
come on way before
the moths perform
their nightly orbit...

in the distance
bells from a church
count down
the dimming
of the daylight

summer nights linger;
everything budding,
blooming and bursting...
time moves at a snail’s pace
as evening drips easy
from the trees, like
honey off a spoon

and I try to get used
to sleeping on
your side of the bed.