The first, faint light, when sleepy birds arouse
And question whether night is really gone,
We’ll smell the apple blossoms as the sun
Draws back the dew they gathered in the night.

The midday heat, when sun browned children run
Through falling droplets, til a sudden wind
And crash of thunder sends them scurrying
For shelter from the unexpected storm.

The sun descending into flaming skies
And flaming leaves, and both reflected in
The running river bearing off the day
With the first stars aquiver on its breast.

We will go hand and hand beneath the stars,
With snow beneath our feet and in our hair
The frost may creep into our bones, our eyes
May slowly darken, but I will not leave.

© Sue Ann Bowling

I’ll be putting up old stuff for the next few days, as I have to give most of my attention to the proof-reading of Tourist Trap. This, by the way, came out of the Summer Arts Festival. The assignment was to write a love poem without using the word “love.”

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