A Summer Morning Poem by Nero CaroZiv

A barefoot boy on dewy sands of summer morning; I remember him at his play
July was at the peak of its reign; what a joy! in an exuberant moment was he
His shirt light to the breeze; his dusty trousers, rolled half to the knee,
And his bare ankles grimy, too, as they


The lithe reeds by the bank of a desperate stream facing the winds in array
Of feverish stripes, of green hues and white that hint vividly to him
Of the woody pathways ahead winding endlessly; embracing an old patina structure in gray
Along the creek, the sun was rising in the East; the world shaking up from its dim


He plunged his feet into the morning waters; gasped and shook -
Yet called the water 'warm, ' enough the enterprise, with never lack
Of joy; and so, totally and enviously I backward look
Upon that graceless barefoot and his happy blissful track,


His toe stubbed; the thorns that were hidden in the water
The cactus bushes were there in plenty with juicy protected fruits
A shadow ran across; a black silhouette; was it a cat or a wild otter
A frivolous pain to the toe; his thoughts were on that delicious prickly loot


Summer day, the heat is on; the vast blue clear sky without a single cloud
Across, stretched the orchards of balmy citrus trees over vales and hills,
When all at once he saw the silhouette of a flying crowd,
The shimmering host, of brown sparrows that flew under a wagon wheels
Some hovered beside the pool that cattle used beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze that overshadowed the humming bees



And now at the autumn of my years when on my couch I lie in naught
In the porch of night; on summer; in some vacant or in pensive mood,
The memories flash upon those inward thoughts
Which bring upon me the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And I wish I lie with the sparrows under that dusty wagon wheels



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