Our tremendous orb turns it face toward the sun
And we bathing in it, shed our clothes,
Plant our toes,
Long hair flows
From lithe young girls
Who toss their curls
I who am in my summer enjoy watching the spring.
The rising sap charges the air,
And I stare
In the glare
At the fit young boys
Playing with their toys
The girls with tossing curls prance with delight,
Making come get me eyes at the boys
Playing with their toys.
Lots of noise.
In their spring.