Circa 1976: Morning In The Meadow, In Mist

The meadow on your grandparents' farm

is soft and thick with fragrant wildflowers;

perhaps even ferns are present there,

and other plants' stems turgid in your presence.
Urban sprawl swallowed so many sites like this---

not nearly important to those who decide---

bur not this one, not at this time, oh no.

You left your shoes on the front porch;

your shirt, jeans, and thong by the old hand pump;

but not your socks, to which loose grass

stems tenaciously and unobtrusively cling.

The morning's dense mist gently, even jealously,

conceals your almost nakedness.

The morning's warm mist eagerly, even playfully,

caresses your almost nakedness.

Compelled by your erotic provocation,

the nearby milkweed releases its latex;

others may call this noxious;

but you do not mind that a few stray droplets

have wet, and may still stain, your stripey socks.




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