Table of Contents - Vol. VIII, No. 2
On warm Summer nights,
windows open, and twilight
stretching a spectrum
from yellow to orange to red
I watch the moon and the stars brighten
through the still bare branches
and listen for the peepers,
listen for the woods to fill with their desire
as they rise from icy leaf litter,
mate in vernal pools, and lay a thousand eggs.
So it goes.
On every spin around the sun.
the earth tilts toward the heat and comes alive,
peepers in the woods, children in the park,
their voices echoing late into the evening.
Ally, Ally in come free!
You’re it! My turn!
Free from a long confinement,
free to hide and seek,
to run and sweat,
free to feel the first thrill
of touch that is more than play
in the twilight, in the Summer,
their voices a chorus of possibilities
in the ephemeral adolescent pool.
© Judy Grey