Green pastures drenched in oil of saliva
the rapture of painted clouds

lines reaching over hilltops
where the wind has collapsed,

shelves in a wave of birch
climactically spouting water,

a shore patrolled by caves that echo,

highway of wood shined
under a forest of bicycles,

the oozing jets of captured radiance
rolling to the fall of bones

and the summer's orange yield.