A short poem in iambic pentameter.

Summer is lingering in the morning air,

You can smell it floating through the garden,

Taste it in the rising sun's golden stare,

Feel its wonder crawling on your skin.

The grass is trapped under a diamond dew,

Breeze wraps around the whispers of willow,

The sky painted with streaks of white and blue,

The sweet coolness of your feather pillow.

Fingers of warm air creeping through the windows,

Fresh water glistening like broken glass,

Footprints enscribed in lonely gold meadows,

The trees and the wind in a slow waltz dance.