Leona Mason Heitsch
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Heels flicking into the oblique rays of sun
and oblivious of the soft, dark shadows overcoming
the calm green scene, a sand colored calf
sashays off the pond bank as if to entice that sky-haloed
calf into a meadow romp amidst the grazing herd.
To this calf that does not know that Gorbachev
will come to the Fulton in a day, or that the wrath of pent up
fury strains in L.A., or how, in passing on the highway,
I've caught him at his play, and will long remember
west of Bourbon, early May:
I wish you frog song lullabies, sand-colored calf,
warm zephyrs ...