The season swells and rises ’round me;
drab brown fields have greened with early wheat.
Grasshoppers with one easy leap land in summer,
It won’t be long before the bees will follow
and then the butterflies. O June,
you thrill me with your youthful exuberance;
rose petal wind, the tanager’s scarlet breast,
the joy of flight is all around us.
Lord, give me wings, if only for a moment;
let my psyche soar beyond the stratosphere.
If, like Icarus, my wings are wax, let it be.
Small price to pay for the gift of flying free.