What shall I give for a summer's gift . . .
A cloud of fireflies all adrift
In a sea of emerald grass.
Or perhaps a cap of Queen Anne's lace
Picked from my sweet secret placeWhere butterflies and hoptoads pass.
What shall I put in your waiting hand . . .
Pond pebbles dug from the shimmering sand,
iGilded and glowing there.
Or a bracelet of clover woven with reed
thistledown puffs studded with seed,
Afloat in the summer air.
What song shall I sing for a summer's tune . . .
A piping of crickets serenading the moon,
Played on the wind in the trees.
Or a riff of wren call, clear and bright,
To wake the sun, to end the night,
Soft on the morning breeze.
What shall I wish in dusk's lavender glow
the midsummer star hanging low,
So near, yet so far away . . .
That as you grow young and I grow old,
All our tomorrows be brushed with gold,
The gold of a summer's day.