03-08-2018, 05:59 PM
The creek behind your mother's house--our socks
and shoes on shore and jeans rolled to our knees
we tiptoed over teeter-totter rocks
with all those little helicopter seeds
descending into pools where tadpoles played
till salamanders took them one by one.
When August was a billion, billion days
and but for two or three the sun had shone
on us. But this is not a summer rain
my love. The frogs have found a place to sleep
and slowed their hearts. The salamander's reign
of fire is done. The trees have spent their seed.
Let's tiptoe back to our socks and our shoes
and dream of what winter might have us do.
and shoes on shore and jeans rolled to our knees
we tiptoed over teeter-totter rocks
with all those little helicopter seeds
descending into pools where tadpoles played
till salamanders took them one by one.
When August was a billion, billion days
and but for two or three the sun had shone
on us. But this is not a summer rain
my love. The frogs have found a place to sleep
and slowed their hearts. The salamander's reign
of fire is done. The trees have spent their seed.
Let's tiptoe back to our socks and our shoes
and dream of what winter might have us do.