June Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

JUNE

We came back from the amber beach,
With sunlight in our astonished eyes.
Our hearts arose up high to reach
The lindens sighing to the skies.

The meadow of sallow, russet grass
Feels wet beneath your dress of white.
As you trail through the dew-kissed reeds you pass,
You live for my kiss, and the nascent night
Which ascends with starry, turquoise wines.
We walk to the summerhouse, clad with vines;
By the broad, stony brook, framed with eglantines,
Among the statues of the belvedere,
Amid the colonnades, and the teeming walls,
We embrace beneath the beads of the waterfalls,
Now high, now low, now far, now near.

Your joy betrays soft, glistening tears,
The wind is laced with sanguine beers:
Ales of the season; Chablis, rum, poured in the dark;
We shall rest in the cellar, then walk to the park,
Where the boughs speak of love,
Where the leaves rejoice in June.
We are pilgrims of the dove,
We are servants of the moon.




John Lars Zwerenz