Sunday, September 4, 2011
The crickets chorused almost musically.
A gentle wind blew through the
rolled down windows.
The old car rolled to a stop from its
slow pace across the prairie
to our place,
a hill overlooking the town,
sparkling with lights in the dark, dark evening.
You turned to me and pulled me closer,
smiling, your eyes touching my heart.
Later, when we headed back,
the car somehow found a mud hole
that it had missed on the way out and
became irretrievably stuck.
We walked home, arms
around each other, laughing,
stumbling over sagebrush and
road ridges, startling at scared rabbits
darting away into the night,
singing, kissing, fearless, young.
(Posted for MagPie Tales, Mag 81, 9/4/11)