In Between

We walked through that field together
You and I
Urged by the restless weather
And the shifting sky
Desiring nothing but the warmth of each other
As our hands touched; that’s all
In this middle season of no longer summer
And not yet fall

The trees were poised for their grand disrobing
The chill on the breeze
Roused our minds toward dancing firelight
And evening and poetry
As we passed rows of corn stretching for miles
Like ragged infantry
And flowers relaxing their fullest smiles
Content to sleep peacefully

The bright-cheeked orchards groaned
As we meandered by
The vast emptiness of waiting moaned
As we lay beneath its sky
A sky leaning ever toward the tug of winter
But we disregard it all
As we lie in a field of no longer summer
But not yet fall

Janet Martin