july

July

This is the last week of July

gold 
petals shred like glory in the wind

and bumble bees … they graze like fuzzy cattle of the sun …

then zig zag on the marjoram

up high,

go wondering wispy thoughts that pass and drift

way up there in the bluest blue

faint    wishes                                       unformed notions

afloat                 upon an empty   ocean

 behind,

but lower down,

And under towed

go towering bowsers of the air

heavy, thunderous, bound with twine ,

like fleecey haystacks, palaces of wound up wool ,

in lumps and bundles,

water laden - bumper full and plumped and thumping ,

wrapped but ready to spill all

at any moment's crash and pour   how can
 we live under this weight ?

and bumble bees

graze like the cattle of the sun

zig zagging on the marjoram

                 Anita Greg 07/08/2019