The silent winds expertly ply their trade.
Strong aromas, drunken adolescent babble fills the air;
Darkness taunts the eyes, couples fade
Into surrounding mist.  Gray green land is spotted bare,
The grass strewn hill soaks in cool drips of light.
A cold neck melts in the warm heat of my hand,
Slips from my grasp.  Laughter mingles with the night's
Inevitable backdrop of chirping cricket bands.
The rusty swings of a cold metal playground sway
Casting shadows on the damp earth.  Distant fireflies
Blink and disappear.  Winding smiles and eyes are glazed
In frabjous teenage paradise.

-Neal Miller, 1993