In the linger of summer imperfectability
when tides return slow
and gentling breezes
rare, soothe savage souls still questing
          your spirit essays the emotions.

Across dying forests, holding vain
under spell of Lyrebird
and time roaming creeks,
comes a consolation of inadequacy
          nurtured on breasts of tormented philosophy.

And in an entomology of night
swooning heavens and curious eyes
plunder a praemeditatio of thought.
Where does the claim of heart roam
          - are you aware of my soul kissing your being?

(c)copyright T. Lee