In a hammock on the first eve of Summer. Edit .00001 richard

[tectak]

Hey tectak,
This is a pretty strong poem, so there isn't a lot to critique. However, I will attempt it:

Dusk dropped stale and breathless, felt like dark was overdue. -I get how dusk is breathless based on what the rest of the poem is about. However, I don't understand why dusk is stale. I would consider using a different word that supports the rest of the poem more effectively.
A beeswax moon was dodging past a kapok caricature. This is a wonderful line. It might be the most original line I've read in a while.
I drifted in and out of sleep, my dreams became the sky; 
a silent movie melded from the pageant passing by. -My only issue with the silent movie image is that it makes me think in black and white, and this poem, as evident by the next line, is not in black and white.

Silhouettes of summer, leaves of apple dark and green,
filled the space between my head and the distant silver screen.
No melody in minor keys, no swelling heaven's throng...-I'm assuming "heaven's throng" is referring to the clouds. It seems to me that this might be an overly elaborate why to refer to clouds.
but listen to the still, cool air and hear the nightjar's song. -I love this ending. The silence of dusk is broken in wonderful fashion.
tectak
2017

Like I've said above, this is a good poem, so I feel like I am mainly nit-picking above. However, I did enjoy having the opportunity to read and comment on  it

Cheers,
Richard

Hi rich,
thanks for your time. I put this in mild because it is what it is...an observational piece. Having said that, some bits are easier for me than the reader. Why stale? A whole day of hot ,still and stagnant  air and all the scents combine. Heaven's throng is usually a crowd of chorally inclined  angels etc singing  praisy shite.None of that here.
Oh, silent movie-black and white. In the dusk reflective colour vanishes. The only trace of color is from the back projection of the faintly lit sky/moon. Leaves are translucent.
That is all.
Best,
Tectak.

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in a hammock on the first eve of summer

Dusk dropped stale and breathless, felt like dark was overdue.    gives a tired feeling
A beeswax moon was dodging past a kapok caricature.
I drifted in and out of sleep, my dreams became the sky; 
a silent movie melded from the pageant passing by.      an image of distance 

Silhouettes of summer, leaves of apple dark and green,
filled the space between my head and the distant silver screen.   I like how the subject is slowly drawn out of his distance by the summer night
No melody in minor keys, no swelling heaven's throng...   as heaven is too far away…
but listen to the still, cool air and hear the nightjar's song.     …but here, something´s found, in the close reality and beauty of a moment.

it´s great.
got nothing to criticize, meter´s perfect and rhyme is fine ( I´m not sure about the pronunciation of caricature), so here´s feedback on what it conveys (to me).
"kapok caricature" is fascinating. it gives a cynic or detached view (caricature) on the world as a whole (the kapok tree having a similar meaning as yggdrasil). I also like the title, reminding of how such thoughts  seem to somehow suspend the thinker.

Hi vaga and thanks for your comments. As I often say, I don't consciously do obscure so whatever elastic myths are made of, it didn't stretch  kapok (light, fluffy fibre used for stuffing pillows and the like...better and less cliche than cotton wool clouds) to Yggdrasil, the Ash support upon which the world sits.
Best,
tectak