his idea of a good  time

his idea of a good time
was my idea of a good time
running down the path
from the house through the woods
laughing, stumbling,
holding hands, falling down
helping each other up

running until we flung our bodies
down on the sweet mossy grass
yellow flowers dappling it like stars
dragonflies darting around us
a brighter blue than the eye of the sky

his idea of a good time
was my idea of a good time
he held me tight
which felt right
even though I could hardly
catch my breath, and pretended
I was trying to get away

he kissed my face
nuzzled my neck
nibbled my ears
and we had a good time
over and over again

until the fog came rolling in
and the cows began lolling home

-- True Heitz
Snow Bunting 

    (Plectrophenax nivalis » feathered trickster of the snows)

              western Hudson Bay shoreline, Canada

From the tall steel of the tundra buggy’s 
deck, I spotted two prowling polar bears 
leave willow rills for the water’s edge, where 
they chased and rolled, then dropped into a nap
amid the dark wrack wreathing that icy 
beach. Through the binoculars I could see 
their noses flute, bowed ribs rise with each breath, while   
around them sparrow-sized snow buntings hopped, 
whistled, and foraged, stood in the nostrils’ 
turning breeze, traced the still flanks, braved even
the black curve of seal-smashing paws. They pranced 
without fear of wild power, like jester 
dwarves in the king’s court, or Francis, at play 
before God, singing praises of the small. 

   -Published originally in Fourteen Hills.
    Included in Songs of the Two Names, 
       winner of the 2012 Grayson Books Poetry Chapbook Competition.
-- Robert Aquinas McNally