Summer's here

Applecross stoops
not to hit its head
on the blanket of cloud
at two thousand feet

Rolls of cotton wool
in straight lines
by the Atlantic wind

Summer smiles
after a final tease
from winter
this weekend

Tide's rising high
pulled up by
the midsummer

The Stones smile
knowing that
they are for the moon's
long cycle

but benignly
they allow the drum
to be beaten
for the sun

As it descends
down the latitudes
summer rolls in
summer is here

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