Summer's close as an unborn child <br /> My dress made of earth, moist at the waist, tight to my chest <br /> Somewhere there is a roof where taps its stone note <br /> But I am full of the soaked sweet clover unstoppered, <br /> The cloud travelling the distant moon <br /> Moments are ripening: tomatoes; dark forms of cornstalks shake their limbs loose, husks shudder <br /> I pull my rain collar close as voices carry off, as hushes deepen, as marigold seeps out; junebug, firefly.<br /><br />Cheryl Derby<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ripening/
