Over Summer

You and I --      
our bones fall in Autumn colours        
softly, like feathers cast        
off our tree named 'Ionraic'* -      
and till crack-filled frost reflects the glow of Spring      
we lie, dormant as sleeping seeds in the hollow        
of Terra's throat      
while Winter shades draw their bridal greys        
over a hundred suns.      
       
And we,        
when Nyx bows to Equinox        
and sweeps away her starlit skirts      
stay quiet in our foetal state, waiting      
for the desperation of twittering calls outside        
to settle into young Summer,        
the energy        
in humanity's solar affair      
swinging low into heat-soaked lull      
for as long as gratitude takes to smile.      
       
And you and I --      
Salt and sun lovingly blanch our bones,      
and we are clean.      
       
       
       
       
       
*"Ionraic" - pronounced [IN-rig] - is a Scottish Gaelic word meaning "honest" or "upright" or "just".