He steps outside
on love’s front yard
to savor this final summer
of playful intent,

Too soon stuck inside
when he would happily
and more healthily
have worked out
surrounded by garden sex
with sacred gratitude

And forest walks
through fecundity
entered under unshaken silence
of deep summer waiting,
as ominous as an approaching tsunami
terrifyingly known
yet not experienced.

But
not today.
Not here
in this dappled refuge
from jaded burning out
and inside sun
savoring his final summer
of playfully naive intent.