the sun is but a youth in your backyard

i expect on my traverse
along the rushing path
slanting across the horizon
i’ll come to know you,
but if i don’t

then i will stand outside your house,
the summer breeze billowing through my hair
your shirt leaping to life on the clothesline,
ballooning, flickering like a night market goldfish.

the emerald grass poking out between my bare toes
stubby blades soft as featherdown,
and with reflected sunlight, golden
glimmering in my eyes

i’ll shout your name
throwing you a bouquet of multi-coloured socks
until i catch your soul in my hands.

“With the sun young that morning,
And the dew not long gone from grass and roses
violets still were wet; the moon had not so long
gone” ⁠— Eli Siegel (This Summer Morning Mariana Has)