farmers bride

Too young maybe…

…But mores to do at harvest time

When us was wed she turned afraid…

…of love and me and all things human

Twasnt a women…

…more like a little frightened fay

Lying awake…

….with her wide brown stare

We chased her….

…flying like a hare

Not near not near…

….her eyes beseech

Sweet as the first wild violets…

…to her wild self but what to me?

What’s Christmas time without there be…..

…some other in the house than we?

She sleeps up in the attic there…

…alone poor maid

The soft young down of her…

…the brown, the brown of her - her eyes her hair her hair!