NOON NAP

In a sultry afternoon
A ball of melted iron is the sun light
Darting in all directions
With wisps of smoke white

I would change into a flying bird
Roosting on some Longan tree
To listen to
The lonely cicada
Chirping for a long, long time

Green leaves are
A conditioner that needs no power supply
And gives shades of a cool space
The branches stretching eastward
Are tempting me
To lie slanting on them

Leisurely I go into sleep
With a thin collection of poems
On my chest