Joanne Cucinello

Beneath
the withered oaken tree
she stands
tendrils dripping
warm September rain.
The tryst
all but comical now
and he
approaching with his
makeshift thatch umbrella.

The scene unfolding . . .
he in leather soaked,
she in soggy denim,
a novel Romeo and Juliet
dappled in sooty charcoal
remnants of their wet and weepy
campfire gone awry
and bed of nosegays
now ~ a spongy pallet.

But love not lost to folly
yet revived by laughter,
will prove, alas, to set
the tone for future
merry jaunts!