Written In Orchard

Those days (days of experience)! I would travel some seventy miles a day, To accompany that golden woman as daily duty, To that far countryside of Kellar. Sometimes as dogs go mad in urge behind bi*tches In autumns and in springs, And sometimes as that Hindu god would see his deity beloved By the stream-side. My worried coughing father would warn me and advise About women and the bitter realities of life But, I would reply with an arrogant smile. These apples of neighbors have grown tall and thick Than ours! And these dried, broken trees, These newly planted baby plants, Bring tears into my eyes.