Daphne lies by the riverbed, it is always
A quiet summer– when waters collide
With sunlight, satiated by her slumber.
Never does she mourn for the moon, when it
Falls from the sky into her Mother’s Earth.
Never does she frown for the winter wind,
As her favored laurel is evergreen—
I see why Apollo was so entranced
And why the stubborn morning rises for
Her rare admiration. Oh, sweetest Daphne,
Even I, with a tender heart, could turn
To greed, to chase after her like a child
Sticky-palmed with an impatient spirit
And scorn for the god who turned such gentle
Skin to a brazen bark, untouchable.
Piper Summer is a young poet from Phoenix, Arizona, who currently resides in Boston, Massachusetts. She is a college student studying writing and philosophy. When she’s not writing new poems, you can find her petting a cat, reading anything she can get her hands on, or searching for vintage photos in antique shops.
