midsummer

I find the photograph inside of a box
that is smaller
by far
than the dimensions of the
photograph.
I know
(deep down on the inside of inside of me)
that this
has its own
separate
and colourfully illustrated
meaning,
(outside of the segmented particles.)
But I shall not allow this
to dance
(as if around the maypole)
inside of my mind.
I bury the paper
at the bottom of the tree
on the right hand side
of a shared garden-
at night-time;
as a squawking seagull
mourns her eggs.
I tie the faded
image
up in ribbons that
have become
frayed;
just in time for
the revelry.