Wide-eyed, face down,
nose in the grass,
purples and oranges
greens and reds,
three blades
for the price of one,
each waving and weaving
their lurid patterns
drawn in an
ethereal sequence -
beyond the field's edge
Van Morrison whisper-sings...

"Last night she came to me
my young love came in
so softly she entered
that her feet made no din..."

Lightheaded, floating through
corridors of tents and stalls
flicker-lit by torches, cigarettes,
small fires, glow sticks
and the moon leading
legions of galaxies and stars
across heaven murked
in smoke and smells
from woks and charcoals.

"She stepped away from me
and she moved through the fair
Where hand-slapping dealers'
loud shouts rent the air..."

Treading discarded cartons
of half-eaten, sloppy noodles
and greasy falafels
served by tattooed chefs,
long-haired hippies
with vegetarian gifts
and small brown crystals
for unsuspecting urbanites,
weekend adventurers
seeking trips where trips should
never be allowed to go...

"The sunlight around her
did sparkle and play..."

Faces loom in and out;
girls with smiles, tight pants
and bandoliers of jaeger bombs,
boys swaying in their silent dance
with cans of pale ale held high,
faces flickering in the light,
glistening glitter-glint grins,
painted in greens, reds and
purples, the air acrid
and sharp
with josh and sweat

"I dreamt last night
of that far away day,
your hair spread golden
on the ground where we lay..."

Dancing alone under
a cloudless sky;
the moon, now tripled in size,
assumes a lucidity,
a pearl white clarity,
as if purity itself
and time, time, time
has lost all meaning.

"you stepped high
as you move through the fair..."
and fondly I watch as you
move here and move there,
you went your way homeward
with one star awake
as the swan in the evening
moves over the lake..."