in the incomparable sweetness

Cynthia Cole Davis

in the incomparable sweetness 

they tiptoe together -  
bare toes squishing fresh-dropped dung

watching out for 'grownup-enters' creaks

reach for small fistfuls from the burlap bag

and run - run into and over the dawn lit field

wet grass - through corn - jumping mole holes - 

run to the cool edge of the woods and there bury 
their purloined seeds pressing into the untilled earth

with fingers tremulous stoked by stolid solid certainty - 
knowing that before long a vine will sprout another and 
on-until time tumbles - they are ready - and their wine flows –

Now, they lay together tasting the future on their lips - watching 
clouds as the new rise-sun spills- 
chewing on a pilfered stalk – 
farming - 
soy beans into grapes 

until the call to breakfast