8-year sneak

To bring me back to that night we call The Beginning.
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it was August 3rd, around midnight I guess
(though we lost track of time)
no more of those vail-covered summer skies
but greenish black with ash grey moon.
the day had been warm and lit

now others scattered around the big house;
some still putzing around, lazily preparing for the next day
groups of giggly girls leaning over shared sinks,
brushing their teeth in their cuty pajamas
groups of boys drooping over sofas, eating popcorn,
bursting into laughter once in a while
cameras flashing, e-mail addresses exchanged

we snuck out to the back porch
where the woods reach out to the house like a friendly hand
to an unexpecting yet welcoming shoulder

only two weeks before had she asked to get in
and of course, was accepted
"we always need another pair of helping hands!"
-- but she was there because of me

for me

he came out to have a smoke,
so we decided to move away,
following the path in the moonlight
we came to the rocks

I remember the sea being calm
I remember the wind being still and awaiting
I remember feeling chilly in a few hours' time
I remember wearing a white, comfortably worn knit
and green khaki pants
oh yes, and the heavy, clumsy shoes I liked so much
I have no recollection of what she was wearing
perhaps she does?
I'll ask her

lying on a rock,
side to side, arm to shoulder, hand to hip
staring through the sky with glazed, bewildered eyes
sensing as much as could bare

everything was new
like today
8 years later and we're still sneaking away in the night,
feeling the excitement,
in our hearts carrying the thrill
wild and restlessly beautiful
like a moth flickers around the lantern

August is the beginning of the harvest season