Hail, lady Moon, when dailyness dazzle,
when maple leaf viburnum reddens fruit,
and drought pierces mayflower to the root.
Young woodpeckers find flying a puzzle,
when morsels come straight from mother’s muzzle;
why depart nest? Yet soon, mother will boot
her children from sycamore, making moot
their fears. Doe turns from grazing, to nuzzle
her fawns, still white-spotted but standing tall,
firm-footed amid jewelweed and ivy.
Baltimore oriole races through limbs
of oak; crown vetch bursts the wrap of her shawl.
Tomatoes and peppers grow green and heavy,
even as summer’s fullest sunshine dims.
This one was such fun to write. There will be a delay on the sonnet for the July Full Moon, due to travel on my part, and distance from a functioning internet connection.