TRYSTING

A winding road through the bright-leaved maples, a hillside orchard where a girl sells apples, a brown cow pond with wind stirring ripples.

A narrow path to the river shallows, a strip of pebbles under the willows, a muddy bank where the otter wallows.

The old stone bridge across the water beside the oak where thrushes flutter o’er ghost-white flowers where moths sip nectar.

The village street, dark, with circles of lamplight, a call and a laugh, the squeak of a lychgate, a soft step, a sigh, a quickening heartbeat.