|Vol. V, No. 3, Winter 1992|
I saw in summer
A coverlet of meadow flung upon
A steep and rocky Ozark glade.
The earth was grays and greens,
A blend of growth, maturity, and death.
The theme was Chicory, Aegean thing,
A perfect rambling of purpled blue,
With blocks of Blackeyed Susan here and there,
And stenciled umbrels of Queen Anne's lace.
Embroidered clusters of Butterfly Weed
Enflamed the point at left, mid-distance,
Where rivulets converged and drained into the trees
Along a creek that whispered among stones.
A meadowlark flushed whistling from the flowers
And, flashing white, glided into the vault.
Now I will stitch a cover for my bed
Of blue and gold, puff-quilted white,
With French knots flaming on a fall of field.
A binding of green for the trees at creekside.
And the wing curve of summer's sailing lark
To quicken my pulse in winter.
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