it is always autumn
with heady aromas
like cider, new mown hay.
She rides the pinto,
the one with spirit high,
who is wont to take them
into gate or barn.
It will be the barn today,
quickly, lower the head.
Close call and fluttering heart,
hands tremble, ragged exhale.
The boy of golden hair,
same color of the hay,
is laughing up above her.
His humor is lost in her fear.
The thunder claps
to announce the rain.
Enormous drops
that pound on roof of tin.
There is electricity,
not related to the storm.
The air is pulsing
as a mellow drum.
He folds her gently
into his chest.
It is her first real kiss,
sweet, soft and deep.
In a hay loft
on a gray winters' day,
in her heart
it is always autumn.
Char Chandler
September, 2009
19 comments:
Char- every first kiss should be in a hay loft or on the river bank. I've never kissed a girl in the loft. Damn. still time?
I loved it no matter the spacing. ~rick
Dang...that is HOT in an innocent sort of way! :) It's beautiful, Char.
Did you try using < P > (eliminating the spaces)?
Char - that is really nice. I hope it's a true story and I hope it's autobiographical.
lovely. :) Reminds me of my childhood too.
My cousins lived on a farm when we were all young- I never missed an opportunity to go there with my grandfather. We kids would jump from the hay loft into a big pile of hay, again and again. Thanks for a memory, I smell hay right now in my mind..
Very nice. Makes my first kiss boring on so many levels.
I came in from Erin's blog, to find another lover of poetry.
This is sensual, heady, full of memories.
Beautiful Sis, I check your blog every hour for new ones, you still amaze me. Trying to find a reason to take a trip down, hopefully soon.
Rick - Its never too late, and I
highly recommend it. Thanks.
Beth - Awe, thank you. (And thanks
for helping me with the spacing
problem. I had to edit it in html
to get my spacing to work. What's up with that.)
kww - Thanks, yes and yes.
oct - Thanks, where would we be without memories.
buffalo - memories can be so strong
even after many years. Who doesn't
have memory of the scent of new hay.
A.S. - Thanks. Think back a little
harder. No first kiss could be boring.
Lakeviewer - I enjoy visiting your blog, thanks for stopping by here.
Twisted - No reason needed. Come
on down. Soon. Miss you.
Delicate strands of beauty. Thanks for sharing dear friend. (Hugs)Indigo
oh, this is so lovely ...
and the image ... I'm glad I saw this and read this tonight
Indigo - Thank you so much. I always look forward to your comments. Hope you are doing well,
friend.((hugs))
Kat - What a flattering comment
from a wonderful writer! Thanks.
Beautiful.
But over here it is still summer. That or I'm having another hot flash.
Groan.
Char...you're a poet....:) xo
CHAR! Frik, I love this. The air is pulsing as a mellow drum. Yes, this I like. All of it! You need to do this more often. The writing and the rolling in lofts.
(Now kiss me, fool!)
xo
erin
I think I will likely go my whole life and never kiss anyone in a hayloft Saks fifth ave, maybe
Charmaine - Still very much summer in SW Florida- record high temps for the next 8 days (whew). Played golf yesterday and nearly died!
Braja - Awe...thank you. xoxoxo
Erin - I'm afraid I am a little aged to be rolling in the hayloft! (alas). Thanks for your flattering comments.
Jessica - To each his own. Sorry that you missed the expierence. For me, Saks would be a poor substitute.
Oh Char, this is like magic because when I looked at the photo, I felt things, saw things, KNEW things...and then I read on as you spoke it truer. So bizarre.
So now I wonder if the photograph gave you the story, or the story found the photo. Do tell!
And it is always autumn night in my heart!
Wine and Words, the story is a true one, so the words went looking for the photograph. I am a lover of nights as well. Thanks for stopping by.
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