summered

poppies pop in season
burning campfires, so freeing--  as river slides up north
who can tell the things that befell us--which way
the tributary seems to parallel  the constellations---

ursa major,  one big dancing bear
donned in an apron-- she's making claw foot cookies
from oat grass and molasses-- cinnamon bark steeping in brandy,
orange rinds simmering with raw local honey & grapefruit peels--

it was a night to remember--  how we forgot
the mosquito nets is beyond me;
we lived for the moment--
as x's and y's pooled in unison for our honeyed moon--

by the time  we reached home, the bird had flown-
the tune we had crooned,  cracked the code
we mourned, we built up the house
from  our one-room school house to our sub-terranean shrine-

river still  runs-
with enough sun  for the whole darn clan:
sangha, mishbucha,* familia-
all blood pools in unison

 Kate Lamberg
  8/18/13
copyright..all rights reserved...(C) kath-odes~*~
* mishbucha: family, in yiddish

sunset on long island~by kate lamberg..all rights reserved..(c)