Summer Poem by robert down

The chorus turns silent until an echo of of treble attacks my senses.
In the summer the weather will not do this, not to the extent of the darker months
when the cold makes skin brittle and minds confused.
The beach is near on the horizon,
but the horizon seems far?
And through my own fault I keep my distance.
Instead I turn to the woods to sleep under the starts and amongst the animals.
There, the silence is abundant however there is always the endless hiss and movement of nature for reassurance.
This is my place, the setting that I will miss when I am confined to a warm box whilst the trees sit in the cold wind.