Jump on behind, you who would ride with me
or in front for we ride bareback
in closer contact with our mount
the source of energy between our legs ...
No one can hold to slower gait
this golden day that freshened
by two days of resting clouds and showers
on the upturned face of August
leaves the restless river dappled green
with algae through which the ducks
make streaks in patterns along the shore
as they chase each other with ardor
or with punishing intent. Must we remain
static in our watching? The road
along the bank is for our riding
and there will never be an end
to our racing river. We must make
the most of this pungent day, the only one
of its special kind there will ever be.
We who find this so penetratingly sweet
in our loving of the earth and of each other
must not let a moment of this glorious day escape.
(The picture was taken by me.)