Rhymes

I have been rereading some old poems. I rarely write in rhyme anymore. I guess I came to realize how difficult it is to  do it really well. But even some of the imperfect rhymes do have some musicality. At least I didn't give in to moon/june rhymes. I think I actually like this one. Enough to play with the line breaks and try to get a more interesting effect.

Seasons

Eyes the green of ferning summer
newly gladed, wetted deep

The look, a book for learning summer
hooded with the glaze of sleep

Beside me now, stealthy silence
sings more clearly than a lark

Remembered rain, in compliance
stays behind us in the dark

I wintered in your absent passion,
hibernated from the snow

surviving skinny on lean rations
waiting for the winds to blow

dandelions across green landscapes,
for ice to sparkle , melting slick

for leafless forests to display shapes
flagging from their branches thick

Good morning , Love

I think it's summer
Sunlight's set the room ablaze

Across the bed its long arms lumber,
tangle into our embrace

Summer eyes so greenly burning,
their angle falling to my breast,

arrest all thoughts

The day is turning
heavy with its heated breath