Summer Swinging

Gardenias scream louder in the brain
encouraged by the tender summer moon
glowing silent over a manicured lawn
with the hard pricks brough low.
Smells go brighter still slowly
to the steady movements of swings
twinned in their syncopated moans
and high-pitched retreats.
The gardenias and singing sounds
make islands in the dark
of a long, lonely porch,
while two invisible people speak with one another,
the gardenias and the moon.
     "What about when the hungry winter comes
     With all of your pungent desire" sounded,
     the higher of the two.
     "I'll just lie to you to keep it secret.
     Those secrets, they will keep you," moaned.
That summer moon kept glowing
till autumn made it bright
and gardenia blossoms waned quieter
in its harsh, October glare.

Sickly-swee smells must go with the cold
along with the sounds of swinging.
That porch is not deserted, though now it is the foreign orchids
that bloom there instead.