In The Golden Afternoon

Now here is an enchanting afternoon:

Insomniac, I go out to the swing

To read and laze a bit; I've nothing soon

That must be done, no not one pressing thing.

It's warm and sunny. My friend Adam's book,

A Danneman to smoke, the air is sweet --

Then through my front yard's trees I chance to look.

My neighbor gardens shirtless down the street.

I shouldn't, but I watch, and feel the breeze,

And slowly swing. The birds sing, insects trill,

And leafhoppers land on me. How they tease;

They tickle me with tiny feet. Hold still!

Around me, ants and beetles softly creep.

I close my eyes at last, and fall asleep.