"A Late Summer Sunday Evening" by Corbett Jayce Robley

 See them? There they go!

Those long, dancing lines of happy people

From Saxton"s Farm. They"re going to the square,

Each one of them the tender guardian

Of a watermelon--and look and see

That they"ve taken all of Mr. Saxton"s melons;

Didn"t they leave even a pair behind for us?

You look so heart-broken that they haven"t

And that we should be left absent from this

Lovely annual hunt for the fairies...

But worry not my darling,

For I remember well that overcast night

Last Saturday when you found for me that Lonely,

Coruscating star amidst the depthless pitch of the sky;

And what giddiness you let into my young heart

I should now work to impart upon yours with my

Knowledge of the fairies and their fickle ways:

Let our neighbors and those shadowy strangers

Marching along the uneven crests of those

Darkened, dreaming hills, all have and enjoy

Their civil boons, for I know well the royal dreams

Of the Watermelon Fairy Queen, and stately dreams

As hers are never had in such domestic

Fruit as Mr. Saxton"s... She must dream her

Dreams as a sleeping deity in a wild

Melon somewhere in those woods

That border all we know--somewhere

Beneath the verdant boughs and lain gently

On the mossy floor that has so often been

The tile of our playground. O, now there"s

That smile that"s made in me that secret crush!

I would that I could see it always, but

The world is heavy on your mind and shoulders,

As it is on mine, and so I shall be content

With having it in this kind, late-summer

Evening... I"m smiling, too, as you take

My hand in yours and lead me through

The spiny skin of the forest to where

The moon only sometimes reaches, and

Only ever with a silvery yawn.

The orange bobbing of the lanterns held by

Those receding lines of people have

Grown faint to you and me now, but we

Keep on, never-minding the growing

Darkness nor the hour nor the sounds of

The forest, which promulgate the business

Of life beyond the veil of shadow with

Ululating cries and an electric insectoid humming.

My only sadness is not being able to see you

In the dark. I miss your smile already,

Your kind, round eyes, which glow as tropical

Waters yet unrealized by the irritation and

Pollution of mankind. It shall have to be enough

For me that I can hold your hand and

Navigate the darkness; I know it is enough

For my anxious thoughts and all the worries

That have collected upon me, like dew

Drops on the skin of a rose, to fall completely

From me... There! See it? In that yonder

Divot--a wild watermelon, fully matured

And sleeping soundly on the vine--

I"m sure of the magic swirling all around

Its dirty shell; the Queen of the Watermelon Fairies

Must surely be beholden of that regal melon

For her home, but if we should snap it

From its vine, and cut it open, and find it

Empty of her ambrosial presence, then let us

Say that it was only a single palace of hers

In a much grander estate, and let us eat

Of the meat and drink of the juice and be

Content and search no more for her...Ah, there,

The sun has set now, and where is Selene to

Show us that the lighted lengths of this little day

Of ours has gone? The clouds, distant and invisible giants

In that encompassing pitch, make it so that

She cannot shine. I think that this has been a

Good day now... O, but if in all the years to come

I could turn back to my antiquity and see again

The magic of this lovely place in the world, this

Time spent with you, I should be happy and

Wanting of nothing more in life, for the magic

Of this day has never come from the strange,

Mysterious air put off by the swaying, golden,

Fields of barley, nor the incarnadine skies at dusk,

Nor even from the coming and going of the hazy

Auras of the fireflies in the fields at night--no,

The magic of this day of the Festival of the

Watermelon Fairy Queen is found in you

And your loving embrace, in the slow walk

We"ll enjoy back through the noisy woods towards

Our warm, beaming homes... In the morning,

You will go your own way, to the fields,

To the mill, to the woods here again, and I

Will go my own way, and our lives will somehow

Seem diluted by the light of the world and

The people all in it; but right now, I think

The fairies have blessed us and conspired to

Arrange this lonely meeting of lovers in the

Empty woods--Ah, it"s a grand feeling, this... Finally!

You and I are come to a place in the world

That none have yet touched with hand or heart.

Isn"t it exciting as nothing else in life has ever been?

We two alone!