For the dverse open link night
No longer spring, early summer sun
and birds that fill the air with song,
flood, yellow-gold and honeyed.
Grass, fat and lush seeps
with frog-leaping ditch water,
running bright as crystal beneath the willows.
And all is smocked and studded
with golden buttons of dandelion.
this busy, bustling peace
remains when the disappoint fades
the fragile dream bubble-bursts—
life, death the cycle turns,
like the mewling buzzard.