full of storm

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