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Summer Afternoon

All through the sun-possessed long afternoon of midsummer drowsing,
the rustle of leaves has solaced my ear-sense, the green-blue, green-blue
exhilaration of lively leafage on sky-spaces eye-sense
amused, as the crossing of elegant segmented wreathe of wistaria
and tend of interlaced spirals wavering lightwards and woven
on skeleton lattice above has cut out the shimmering pattern
of sky, and I lie in an ice-green and sapphire diapered cavern,
cerulean radiance by verdurous trellis sevenfold intensified.

Whispering fitfully reminiscence of snow-fields, the south wind
fans to dispersal the breath of heliotrope and jasmin
out of their pleasant enclosure, and yonder the coastwise vision
between insignis branches of heavenly azured Pacific
shows where the ultimate plunge of surf on invisible sand-dunes
always resounds, as it lashes its spray in the face of the breeze and
dazzle of sun; flashing and white I descry in the farthest distance
the line of its foaming circle below the delicate amethyst hills.

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The bees and the buzzing flies, the hum of scurrying motorists
beyond the musical leaves has lullabied my passivity;
what honey, what hidden rewards sought for by restless gyrators
they know; by burning sky and iridescent seclusion
boundlessly prisoned secure, I husband the intermission
from curious chase; beside me a jungle-beast, gentled,
slumbers; together cast by the slow up-surging of centuries
on actual beach, we absorb the genial effulgence of here and now.

The current sap, impulse of piston or fluttering pinion,
the way of the wind with the waves, facture of subtle aroma,
beating of ocean-tide, impregnation of planet
by potent star, heart-cries: fearful dynamics propounded,
passed by and postponed, to-day like sheep of the pasture
we lie down at ease; not we ourselves made us;
for joy and heat of the westering sun his benign incandescence
let be, let be; enough, my furry comrade, to drowse and dream that we are.