Tribute to the May-evening


Ambivalent first quarter moon grounds in the night
While horses gallop through the atmosphere regardless of chronology
Forms mist from the froth of their mouths and stamping in the sky
Wrinkles in the blanket of the lake, covers its deepness in black.


Flower leaves bow as the wind chuck the epidermis,
Crowns touching as a fast lick of tongues, a perpetual mobile.
Sweet revenge of the bees, buckles the blossoms as snakes,
Pendulate the bodies in a Roman spring together.


The leaves whisper and crackle when the soft footsteps of the deer
Opens the bushes to let her through with alerted eyes.
Her skin shivers once in the tropical temperature that’s behold
She licks from the lake as the fire flies over the surface.