Across fields of emerald clover
Down a slender slope
A path ambles to a young girl
On a bald tire by a lash hung
From a giant century old limb
Of a gnarly, old oak tree.
Nearby in an inviting pond
A bug lolls on a leaf in the water
Gently transported downwind
By a sinuous stream of air currents
Beneath the silhouette of petite wings
The shadow of a monarch butterfly
Seeking solace upon a soft breeze.
Beneath a canopy of stagnated air
Superheated by the daytime sun
A raucous song is croaked by a frog
In the oppressive afternoon heat.
Mile-high pillows of puffed vapor
Occasionally vanquishes the sun
Sporadically shades the landscape
Like squares of a patchwork quilt.
The shade unclenches my eyes
The gentle ripple of undercurrents
Gently twists my inner tube
Upon that shimmering summer pond.
These memories still sweetly linger
Of the simpler unpretentious days
A diary in my aging mind
Of the springtime of my life.