Thursday, November 15, 2012

Southern Comfort
















The pond's hidden dangers bold in summer now are asleep,
And on the surface only clouds and lilies still are seen.
No snow in the south,
Though the oaks have different colors now
And the Osage oranges are on the ground.
Too late for wild brown sugar and vanilla
Of persimmons to litter the path,
And the meadow garlic has snuggled down,
But the wood and sheep sorrels' lemon tang
Can still be found and tasted.
Best of all my best friend
Grown old with each new cold
Can still find a patch of sunlight
While I can leave my callipygian impression upon the grass
And not be harassed by any chiggers on my ass.