The land lies stunned sun-blasted
Pulsing far out hazy days lazy days
Shimmers and shifts mirage tricks
And bold as gold brazen brass
Essence of yellow, heads up
Look you in the eye, proud to be out
The psychedelic sunflowers stand
Serried ranks, ready to sing and to zing
The south and the summer, the sun
Hallucination drug-free trip
A walk at the end of the day
Clinging to shade to coolness of glade
Filling the senses and flexing the soul
The ochres, siennas, the Prussian, the rose
A palette a painting a poem
A snap for the album, mind’s eye
Make me bold give me voice, inspire
For I’m ready to sing and to zing
The south and the summer, the sun
Oh to be sun-blasted again!
ReplyDeleteI do know I run the risk of losing English friends with too many poems reminding them of the big yellow so rarely in the sky at the moment!
ReplyDeleteIn English, mon amie francaise, we call it the UFO.
ReplyDelete