The Warmth of Summer Rain

I walk
barefoot
upon the springtime grass,
moss and lichen,
I am

flesh and bone
upon the cobblestones,
smoldering coals
upon melting snow,
I await

the warmth of summer rain
flowing
into ebony bowls of loam
where barks of lilacs come to rest
from their blooming,
they smile
at the dance of lilies —

I have traveled the continents
of the years,
countries of the seasons
under the opiate canopy
of space and time —

The years tell stories
upon the lecterns
of my face,
still
I am

younger than my days,
I carry the heart of a little child,
my tiny feet frolic
in the white linen warmth
of  summer rain.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

***  Photograph by John Morgan @ Flickr Commons