Summer Long Ago

A summer long ago
Endures.
The afternoon haze
Shimmers in the lane.
The heady camomile
At the meadow's edge
Lulls us sprawling,
By the ripples of the stream.
Then
A sudden shower
Dashes us for cover,
To the overhanging ash,
Intensifies a pungency 
Of damp fecundity.
A jay rattles 
At our presence
And so,
Dragging our feet,
Kicking up the dust,
Beheading thistles
Along the lane,
In expectancy 
Of a homely tea.
And no doubt a bath
To scrub our dirty knees.

JL June 19. 16:12