One More Summer

Grant me, but one more summer’s day,
one swallow on the wing.
To watch the Butterflies at play,
or hear the blackbird sing.

To lay beneath a cloudless sky,
your breath upon my skin
and think of nought but you and I,
amidst all nature’s din

To feel a warm, yet cooling breeze,
that bids the tulips bow,
upsetting not the honey bees,
who know the where and how.

Oh to hear the farmers mow
and smell the fresh cut grass,
as they too reap, what they didst sow
before the season pass.

Grant me but this, oh fickle fate
and I will ask no more
but willingly, go well…if late,
unto that other shore.

Chris Birrane ©2013