Per chance a stream
A boy walks in the field,
His feet, numb to the ground.
Flicks a fly from his face
And calls his faithful hound.
The boy’s on home turf
Also, the cows and birds;
Nothing new seen each day -
Just ruminating herds.
Dust. Sweat. Dung and sunshine.
Hot wind. Dryness. Dead grass.
Thirsty, and eyes that itch
And a clear sky, as brass.
In the valley below
A crystal river flows.
It cares not for the sun
Nor for the dust, he knows.
Split sun rays dance on
facets of cool, clean water.
The liquid voice of silver dew
Sings blessings as it ought to.
Grass crackles underfoot -
He can resist no more.
A virgin to this youth;
She leads him to the shore.
Such beauty of flowing silk,
A feast for boys’ eye sight.
Approach the boy-man fence;
risk purity – delight!
No matter, he can’t swim.
Should that be of concern?
Virile son of the earth –
Take to her love and learn.
The cows are a-groaning,
Udders sway as they move.
Just one dip of pleasure
cool to satisfy love.
Is her beauty true and
Does she lure with a hook,
Too painful for a boy?
He sneaks another look.
Moving on but there’s more
If he should dare to leave;
Maybe another day:
He must, and will, believe.
Copyright © Keith Haines | Year Posted 2025
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