POEM - SUMMER

Machine roaring, the petrol smell
Of wild mint released, head shorn,
Like a Hell’s Angel out for a ride,
Burnt bracken lying scattered 
Fishbones stripped of their flesh. 
The sun, already hot, catching
The tips of the vines, casting shadows
Through the lemon-scented leaves,
Backlighting the perfect blue fan
Of chicory petals opening
To receive the new day.
The hum of summer in the air,
Dry, dusty grass yellowing,
The land surrendering,
Under duress, to the heat,
The stress, of the next few months,
Retreating into itself, dormant,
While it waits for the autumn,
Knowing that it will come,
Patient in all its wisdom,
In all its endless summers.
And I, waking with the sun,
Singing the song of the land,
While I breathe in its heartbeat.