Valery Petrosyan. (№ 401627)

Watched knapweed, and plantain,
like butterflies ran from the glade the rain,
top kissed the Daisy red
and was fiddling with her starched ruff.
The clouds lazily crawled to the North,
shaking soaking wet blonde clover
panting hard, the foliage thick,
and the day of departure knew a flock of birds.
The bee was buzzing - a fleeting summer
and shadow lace was made of light,
pigeons flocked, we asked for bread...
and in the pools of your double touched the sky.