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Graduation
Summer saunters
But its breath is
On my back
Sky was the night
Turning men to wolves
And some to love
Frightened flowers
Hiding from the dark
Low the moon turns
Washed and out numbered
Not without your favor
We swam naked in the lake
Flood had caught us
Unaware we
Stayed up late mops in hand
I always knew what I wanted
"Sky was the night Turning
"Sky was the night
Turning men to wolves
And some to love"
You packed a cyclone of memories and emotions into that delicate and powerful stanza.
The entire poem is an invocation of yesterday with all its fierce beauty, drama and passion, and your superb style—spare, clean and precise—brings it to life as if we are there and we are you. Stunning work.