Counting Clouds
Such divinity, a poet with their pen,
counting clouds, contemplating,
content in beholding spring's birth,
the mortals passing by, preoccupied,
Poets lay in meadows amidst lavender
lulling them to sleep,
In parterres, June's roses adorning
their imaginations,
romancing the stars with their prose,
under the benevolence, the mysteries
of the summer moon,
and lovers breathless from their passion.