In Vacant Time

Beyond a small stream’s margin lay we two beneath a giant oak which spread sweet shade. We barely knew what next we ought to do there, pleasure-sated from the love we’d made within deep foilage – on carpet lush. The grass, which from the bank seemed to unroll with wealth of buttercups and trim of brush continued past us, up a gentle knoll. Wrapped in one another’s arms, we pondered how the rill, once sprightly, seemed subdued, and how it once had rippled as it wandered toward this sheltered spot of solitude. Our brook, which kissed each boulder on its way, in vacant time – with us – now sparkling lay. Sept 10, 2020 the 'COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (7)any form any theme' Poetry Contest of Brian Strand