| The Hiding Season The gentle rain kisses the skin Deceptive in its touch Ozone is a sweet perfume Its temperance and temptation Do not survive the burning sun The sensations are fleeting As the day shines And wards of clouds Evaporating dew and frost Drops of water against window panes Trickling like tears down a cheek There is a harsh glow during these months Days are long and hot Unbearably so They are necessary to sustain life Still damning to the soul There are no crystal trees No silver blankets No lovers to keep warm Shut the blinds and curse the light Until the harvest moon |