The Status Afflatus

The Big Dipper ladled a cool breeze
All over the blooms of the climbing rose
Tap dancing in their midnight dangle tease
And frondescent play in shadowy throes
Front lit by the gold of The Full Buck Moon
And the spangle of summer's brightest stars
Surrounding the spin of that stellar spoon
Dipping like drunks in punch bowl seminars.
And so goes the sky in middle July
Where only token clouds hang in the air
As the wind from the west blows them all by
To clarify the lunar beams we share
With every hypnagogic elf or sprite...
Exalting all the reverie in sight!