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John Scully

One Day in June

Amidst the hills full and lonely
I walked the ragged paths and stumbled stones,
Looking for a kind of longing,
A memory of that one day in June so long ago.
Remembering that summer,
Where leaves, green and velvet,
Hung down, idle and unraised.
The weather warm and wet,
Clouds in wind meeting their shadows on the ground,
Hovering over elm and willow.
Their branches eavesdropping on rooks and jackdaws
While beneath rabbits watched each other,
As if in endless love.
Here is where the memory of beauty will find me,
In a breeze that rustles faintly,
On occasion to take a nap,
That leaves the air silent, still.
For on that day in June
When the summer rite began,
It was as if nothing in the world mattered,

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