After another fine sharp temperate night
It is a warm morning. This is part of the world.
Summer light and dust blow yellow
Filmed clouds into the air. The brown stubble
Fields feel warm, give off a red excited
Glow like irritated raspberry marks
On fair skin, with its soft white weight,
As the doleful choir of gnats still wails,
And the maiden at the manor window shakes
The sheets out, or is it her fine light hair
That flows or is flung from the storybook casement,
That causes me to stop to catch my breath?
Richland Park 144: photo by Jewel House 10