The Atlantic Ocean roared like a lion that proclaimed its strength to the encroaching summer. As it spiralled, day stretched its body through the multi-toned air. Summer colours rolled through spheres struck by light, they lanced the air that delivered cut glass popping blows. Cawing birds tasted the heat rising from their beating wings--wings that chopped through the hue, wings that rinsed silver shards through vibrant blues, as on the strand the ocean tasted the chaos that bore down, where light crystals drove the happy light.
On the shore, trees, bushes, and grasses shimmied and shivered as the wind moaned: "Rest in peace, rest in peace, Spring! rest in peace." But Spring had departed, and in its wake whispers formed a chorus--a lullaby of leaves. Branches that bowed in bending grace spoke solace, as life, like dreams, divided and merged where small birds dived for cover; their bodies outlined in grey and wrapped in blue tones that momentarily faded, before being trapped in mercurial favour. The hour offered little sweetness to savour as day absorbd the fleeting, beaten, living sparks of dust and clay. :
Such was the time in this solstice day, until birds stitched the sky to the horizon, to all land and sea borders that intertwined and collected our thoughts, and all else that was made by you and me. Their wings wove tales of old and new, some details pulled through from other times, but most branded anew. They cast shadows that danced upon the earth -- a fleeting fresco laid; an overture of beauty that presented items to fill the empty spaces where night patterns the blue -- near where stars are born.
Then when the moon gilded the night, the lions' roar was in tune with all of natures’ might.