Ode to Summer

I apologize for not posting much over the summer. Here is the next poem in the cycle:

The year grows older, to a blazing peak,
A pinnacle, a stony-mountain-height.
The shining sun beams down across the vale,
Its daylight rays bestowing full comfort.
A glorious warmth envelopes every rock
And tree, burning each touching mortal hand.
Long, endless fields of grain-stalks grow- tall wheat
And barley grass, as purple cicadas
Sing heat-born songs from towering maple-trees.
That blinding fire, that great laborious sweat
Is placed, as the worlds weight, upon the ground.
Throughout the rufous meadows, golden larks
Seal this fierce season with heroic cries.