Analysis of June

Long days spun from a string of golden honey
Blue skies pull thin clouds, eyes quick and sunny
Wheat-grass over grown, brushing my knees
I'll carve our names in the old bark of tall trees

Handfuls of berries, lips stained a blood red
Fingertips, as well, where the blackberries bled
A wanderer of summer, follow the white-fence back
Till the iridescent June sky, turns a starry black