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