Idyll

The buzz of insects carry forth,
in breaths of summer air,
and fly as from the wings issued,
the sound and source a pair.

The sun espies through foliage,
and lengths of slender bark,
the frolics of his mortal charge,
that buzz and tweet and lark.

The shimmer of the forest lake,
laps gently liquid gold,
ignited in the light of day,
belies refreshing cold.

And calmly slept these dreams of life,
in languid falling rays,
upon the lake and forest spires,
that last unending days.