sinew and bones: crave for gentle words the sweet becomings that can kindle a fire without touch

the last war we wage: is when silence becomes the only form of violence

cold winds depart north: for there is no place for lethargy in the kingdom of summer

nature instructs us in its ways: sing along when there is birdsong and listen when silence speaks

summer returns in fragments small pockets of sanguine heat that wells in the blood and hearts of the living

speak quietly and with fewer words for the woods understand and respect only action and reaction

as summer heralds its warmth spring has taken the liberty to remind the kind folk of this land that in due and absolute course winter’s reckoning would be upon us all

drink: from this cup of pleasure tainted by the sin of your pale lips

warm hands of summer: shaping cold bodies from wake to bed