Surely thou art light in summer.
Cicada choruses spring so, that all the leaves of thy season's languid dreaming
Are but shadows; jungle arms, sheltering hushed and heated thought, amidst the haze and glimmer of nightfall's strange, flitting eyes,
And that steady buzz, a premontory music,
For would-be lovers - still mere suggestion: a thought of mist and glimmer,
Close-knit, and trembling, in the dark.
Thou hast seen the glow of fireflies in mine eyes,
Looking skyward, and all the throat glows within the ink, glimpsed, storied flashes of
A hollowed place of kiss and mingle, beating.
