Clover in July

A Poem

By Melissa Sussens

The clover is flowering;
fields of sunshine
glistening in the afternoon light.

My dog bounds through
crushing petals, leaves
a trace of her existence.

I sit on a nest of gold
and green while she sniffs,
following lifelines I cannot see.

There is a breeze humming
through the rows of trees.
How can I call this Winter?

These blue skies,
these endless fields of yellow
blooms; and the sun

the sun so bright
that it hurts to look up.
So instead I look away

across to the mountains,
to the town laid bare
at my feet, like a dream.

Even the birds
are twittering Spring.
The orchards daring

to dress up
in pink and white
as if they too don’t believe

that it is only July.
For this one afternoon
I can believe that Spring will rise,

that I will know warmth
again; will be as sun-kissed
as these heads of clover

after a night of Winter rain.