Aubade II

The wind, wakening, fitfull and playfull

Lovingly ruffles  the many tousled heads

Of the oak wood, alerting them to the dawn.

Jealous of her attention, the ripened ears of corn

Framing our blanket, bob heads in scorn.

To the west, blushing warmly, the harvest moon,  

Stoops to kiss the warm breast of earth.  

Whilst near, a blackbird, hesitant, uncertain in his melody,  

The first joyful herald of the day.  

Then distantly, rising, overwhelming,  

We accompany the wild crescendo of song-bird joy.  

The fanfarings of Field fares, Linnets and the Lark.

The dawn, jaded by his long pursuit of the dark,  

Gives no reply.  

But routs the shadows and fills the world anew  

With wondrous colours, bright, of every hue.  

This barbed beauty can take my breath away,  

But I wish it would linger, this warm summer's night.  

If only for an hour, to fend off the day.  

For my love, like the darkness, is now put to flight,  

In panic:

"Oh Christ, just look at the time!  

My tights are ruined and where is my shoe?  

Something bit my bum, no, besides you! "  

The panic soon over, we part at the gate,  

And slink, each alone and a little too late,  

Through the sleepy small town,  

With the twitching curtains  

And the apalling, kettle calling, acid edged tongues,

Of the idle wives.

Respectable again,  

Until sundown!

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