Never known

Never known

Was summer's hill

Rolled then climbed

Once

Again

Stave- stepped

Houses

Snuck above

In squirreled

Oaks

Had no roofs

From which

To reason

How silly was

A nest of ants

At base of root

Washed out

In play

As were

The bees

In honeysuckle

Combed of sweetness

Then as once

Flying wild

Rain shelter

Lean

Too a game

To flit

About in

Listening for

Falling skies

Unthought of

Hours

Becoming

Framed

Feed the head

Bowed in

Mortgage

Pay

The blood

Piped in still

Strained

From gutters

Stems make

Thatching

Torn from leaves

Flushed to

Ground

A future weir

Banked by

Children

Never knowing

Summer's hill

To be another

Latent stream














Tom McGlynn
copyright 2014