Dear Youth, This Summer Let Us Sail

 

Summer springs, — an osprey dive,

dead-aimed, stream-lined, heated high –

at least for those beyond the shores,

whose youth sprang many years before.

 

Reflex tells us prowl and hunt.

Expectation. Daily grunt.

We hoaries fail to read the wind –

A call to peaceful, soulful mend

that languid summer breezes send.

 

Within the monuments of age,

our humid, foggy, maze-y days,

glint memories once turned our tails —

first leap to flight! that siren wail!

a perfect catch upon the swale.

Bring them! Break all surface ails!

Dear youth, this summer, let us sail.

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