Summer Lawns (Poetry)

Soft grassblades bend beneath my feet,
odedient to spreading toes
that test their texture, springy, sweet
with sap fed from a garden hose
and sprinkler, hissing as each day
cools into twilight pearled with grey.

The lawns absorb this makeshift rain,
refreshed after the August heat,
and every spike swells green again
to that so-soothing, lazy beat
as water sprays its swishing arc
of droplets where it meets the parched

soil’s mouth. While, up above, bare soles
are revelling in the cushioned feel
of clover’s patchwork velvet folds,
the sinking, ankle-deep appeal
of grass in Summer’s plumped-up bliss
brings shivers following its kiss —

damply erotic while the veil
of evening draws itself across
close-woven turf, footprints as pale
as silver hallmark’s detail, lost
to night that listens for one sound —
the sigh as water finds the ground.