When first I slept
In you with her:
High-bush burned red,
Windy Autumn bit,
And the Snake
Trickled low
In September drought.

And now as you have
Become a common sight
Of summer weekly passage;
Yet, Ownership, your Song,
Perpetuates in-Soul,
An ever obsrved
Passing of the heart.

And inspite of wear--
Lopped lodgepoles,
Beavered banks,
Trails and trash,
Your youth endures intact--
Crystal moonlight
Caught in lost virginity.

05/07/2002

Author's Note: 2002 memory of 1982

Posted on 04/22/2009
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes