Summer Sheep Camp, 1942
Beside the stream a young boy plays
Though shadows shorten, there he stays
Leave your work and watch him there
His eyes devouring mountain air
The stream has curved and left fine sand
It mounds and sinks beneath his hand
The underside of leaves are green
Nothing is there that is not unseen
Nearby lolls a rattlesnake
Hear the noise it doesn’t make
Warming in the morning sun
That work is only just begun
There beside the mountain stream
Water flows to feed a dream