Ripening with Age : a Summer Freestyle Poem

Late nights in languid heat

we wade through burbling stream

in search of our youth

steam rises from our necks, beads sweat

working the moves

means mind cracking work to unfold

every part of our self in bloom.
.

We hide in Southern shade

that rasps like beard

on hot summer drenching days

too dry for silence, too old

for raspberries leaking fresh juice

we hang down, moss weighted down

reminding us of what we forget.
.

Each forfeit becomes another dream

a time out of time

we never plunge into, never dive

free fall, never crash awake

cold slaking the wonder

of momentary splash full

of ripe moon, ripe sun, adult self.

This poem has no set form of traditional type, but takes its form by how it presented itself, as a freestyle poem. I seem to like stanzas of seven lines.