The dark clouds of summer,
the hot, humid air, and shade
blanket the old apple tree.
Forest green, ripe with fruit,
it glows with red ornaments.
And beside it, at the mouth
of a white sunflower, a hummingbird
hovers, and there's a garden of water
lilies inside a half whiskey barrel.
They are the Arc en Ciel,
pale pink, the scent almost sinful,
so tropical, so Monet.
The season gives us fruit
and the taste is sweet.
