June Honey-Wine (original poem)

June Honey-Wine

May keeps moving further
towards the zenith of the year;
and still her gleaming crown
remains a gem without a peer.

Ruby of the rosined moon,
thy amber torch but fades too soon.
At but a glance, thy sunny beams
warm-melt to thaw my chilléd streams.

I, the timeworn winter fool,
await eleven months to feel
the burning zeal of thy great school
awak'ning summer's easy weal.

Grass is verdant emerald light
tinged apricot by smooth sunset.
Loving cup o'erflowing bright,
spread cheer to every stranger met.

You blaze the fervent fire;
and I am there to raise it higher
until I nearly lose my mind
on the divine June honey-wine.

These months are days and years as weeks,
dim-shadowed blurs and brilliant streaks.
At but a blink we all are aged,
transmuted dirt, wise ones presaged.

New friends are silver; you are gold.
Though we scarely meet, the wind has told
the birds to tell me that you're always fine.
Please remember to remember, love—
that honey-wine.

The sky is blue as distant memory
a-passing through somebody's dream
who can't be sure if matters went
the way that they did seem.

You ever blaze the fire;
we both are there to raise it higher.
Surely, then, I lose my mind
on the divine June honey-wine.

Dan/@d-pend
June 4th, 2019

_{all images and writing in this post created by yours truly
pictures taken at the Heard Museum grounds in McKinney, TX}