“After a Sunday Picnic” by Barry Brown

i do not believe in commitment
without consecration
for that is
life without art
a candle without a flame
a cocoon never opened
embrace without love

riverdale hill makes its offerings of shade
from the maple wings of trees
and the soft song of grasses
playing on percussive feet
while Sunday moves by like a picnic wave
above us

into this consecration of love for you
i offer my soul as a golden thread
to light your candle
wait upon your opening
sing the song of hills and homes for you
serve the needs of bright moon and dark
knowing every crescent has its front and back
and new skin only grows from old
so our days together become an ocean of ways