Too many leaves can be a crowd in what
is a crowded tree canopy of leaves:
it appears what summer is all about
is fullest expression up to the eaves.
And too many blossoms can be a crowd
that turn a tree into pink candy floss,
to fill the eye with bliss, and so endowed
to end the mystery, record a loss.
And too much activity on the lake
where hire boats plod, make it all too much fun,
little is left of the present to take
home with, only a sense of having done.
And am I surprised, when at length I rise
from the bench I have sat on for an hour,
pre-occupied only with memories,
the too many things slipped by in the tour.