The first lily of June opens its red mouth.
All over the sand road where we walk
multiflora rose climbs trees cascading
white or pink blossoms, simple, insense
the scene drifting like colored mist.
The arrow head is spreading its creamy
clumps of flower and the blackberries
are blooming in the thickets. Season of
joy for the bee. The green will never again
be so green, so purely and lushly
New, grass lifting its wheaty seedheads
into the wind. Rich fresh wine of June,iecy
we stagger into you smeared with pollen,
overcome as the turtle laying her eggs
in roadside sand,
-Marge Piercy
YOU ARE READING
Poems She Wrote
AcakThis is a book of poems and quotes some written by your truly others no so much. These are not exactly happy poems so if you don't like that then bye. Just kidding, anyway hope you enjoy this better than my other writings which are crap. P.S. the on...
