Es la mañana llena de tempestad en el corazón del verano
The morning is full of storm in the heart of summer,
~Pablo Neruda
the heat bears us upwards, as if on thermals we circle the sunspots seeking out the dark greens that lurk around arable edges and spread out a fine old linen cloth serves as seat and table set with glass and paper plates that slip down distracted laps with talk of love's minor mishaps and sweet memories chosen to relish the tangy taste of strawberry fields of wheat yield their ears to skylarks riding on high bobbed notes against a contrapuntal insect drone of voices soporific in a postprandial fade out to embrace and pensive pauses ruminating on volatile scents of grass crushed beneath us - then arousal to sudden thunder crash over the nearby town hails an impromptu tempering of mood indigo clouds block the heat and heavy drops hasten on a frenzied round-up of picnic litter and leftovers of love in the afternoon, the summer is full of storm and a boundary tree holds a canopy aloft until its passing
© Laura Granby 2015
Keeping it simple for this Sunday’s look in the Poetry Pantry
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