"Sway to the rhythm of summer snow fields. . ."
(From Tim Ryerson’s Cotton Pickin’ Paradise)
We came upon a cotton field one day
near twilight when the sun was sinking low,
then stopped the car, deciding we would stay.
We reveled in that field of summer snow
and how sun’s radiance upon it shone.
No cares had we, no other place to go!
Parked off the road, we listened to the drone
of gloaming’s insect symphony. You said
the night, like us, was young, and ours alone!
You touched my face as sky lit up with red.
We kissed as darkness fell. Full was the moon
and soft the grass that was our loving bed!
For brilliant Alabama dusks I pine
and nights of moon glow - knowing you were mine.
For the Terza Rima Sonnet Contest of Craig Cornish
a kyrielle sonnet