Shimmering and whirring
in the midday warmth
he found fresh silken refuge from
the capriciousness of autumn air
in darkened pine shadows

Plunged into half dreams by
cicadas‘ chirps in monotony
craving for sweetened pains
and tears, the aftermath
of all too exceeding love

What was his music in the heat
composed in ancient tunes
what is his music now
of bluer or more bluish notes
humming them unconsciously

Exhausted yet relieved by
summer’s insatiable insanities
and inhaling scents of October
he’s weaving clement bonds
to a beautiful white goat nearby.