There was the country road
went on forever
me and Leif hurling rocks
swinging sticks
on the way to town
Weeds all sweated
gravel in our sneaks
Fords occasionally
even a Packard
long enough to make us dream
would the girls all be pretty as Renee
would we fly
Dusk back at the bungalow colony
Pete the jockey took us out on Thunder
bareback in the fields
nothing but the night birds now
Vesuvius beneath us
and the orange sun
Note: Windy Hill is part of my poetry series on summer.
Allen Shadow 