Haze
High the linger haze upon the bough,
As a mother’s kiss on infant cheek,
As innocent as the laughter of flowers beneath,
The ringing note of bluebells in harmony,
Playful daisies in haphazard circle, tickling lazy grass,
Daffodils, tall and proud, in clusters, dancing,
Dragonfly breath rippling this sea of green,
Hovering as the sun on azure canvas,
Beyond the reach of longing eyes,
Shimmer heat is harsh on these stilled leaves,
And birds of every calling bathe in haze, high,
This stout tree, with aged bough, never trembles,
Flowers still frolic,
Grass is becalmed,
Every insect breathes to dragonfly wing-beat.
© Michael Garrad January 2011
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