There were majesties.
Rain tilted his shining spears
Into the fat rump of the meadow.
The sheep wooled against one another
In fearful sessions, as
Lightning

Struck
An old tree near the brook
Where we first lay together.
I had not meant to tear her blouse
But she felt so soft and
Pretty, and her mouth tasted
Of blueberries.

The tree was split open like a fish
On a green counter, and in the middle
Of its heart, smiling as on that day,
Her face looked out at me.
Later, and I had cried,
I picked up one of the lambs.
But it only seemed like a thing
One would imagine doing then;
So I put it down as gently as I could,
And started walking fast back to the city.