THE FACE OF THE MOON

Budding trees, aroma of spring,
memories of canoes gliding across shaded water.
The smell of an old cabin and taste of iron water.
Plank floors with a soft patina
created by years of girls’ movements in tennis shoes.
Camp life with it’s sensual pleasures visit my mind.
I can return in a second and make it all real again.

I was unaware of efforts to conceal enticing forces.
Magnetic confusion in an air of unrestraint.
Girls swimming naked side by side.
Their bodies gleaming in the moonlight
like slick Dolphins.
Do they talk about it around the campfire now?
or does it echo in whispers of intensity?
The old days weren’t that different,
except that the secrets were hidden
in the face of the moon.