a blowtorch from Spain burns the sky blue.
from its white nozzle - sun welds the earth
onto day - the dry sirocco’s true
terminus far north - while night’s rebirth
shows more stars as it slowly gains
on each complete day. let poppy touch
stiff plastic wheat for us - let tufted grain
make time golden again. nothing is clutched
in that abundance - the world is yielded
in the forgotten scent of the limes
and proximity of our star - fielding
our games. storms may accumulate and time
out our day with darkness. they have the same
origin - accept their light without blame.
10 July 2021