In the tall grass of summer,
Beneath the shadow of that mountain,
When comfort warmed the hearts
And familiarity of the fields,
Lead us from the chilly wild-wood,
We heard the warbler's song,
Then woven with our own.
We slept in the sandy earth.
Watched the silver moon set low
And, for a while, wrapped ourselves
In the shimmer of infatuation.
Later that season, we wandered the oaks
Stripped bare of our dress,
Asked the same question as at the outset;
Be secured by the lonely wood, or
Revealed together in the meadow?
As we walked the path,
Together we each came to halt.
Not as though we arrived at impasse,
But as the evening stars realize they are now dawn.
Yet only could we gaze at this endless horizon,
Then wonder: Had we enough time to consider?