The Price of Milk.

I

Misting up the glass,
With anticipation.
Small silent eyes are ready -
Excitement's precipitation
Announces the lust of lightening,
For a sudden sky-wide constellation.
Shrieks of pleasure, like birds at dawn.

II

Ripe as red apples,
Hands brush in the noon haze,
In repose, on garden's grass
Plump and full up with youthful laze
They taste one another's dappled eye
Under unending boughs and new-born days
Driven home as bees to honey.

III

Knotted and lined and pallid as wood
They troop alone, into the kitchen
Where worn oak frames some grandchildren,
Who still shriek at lightening.
Cost bemoaned by Adam,
Francesca replied,
"That's the price of milk..."