(C) R.L.K..
Sometimes it would rain
in summer, long rains
that didn't bother
us, for we were young
and had time to spare;
some mornings, after
a storm, we'd hop in
the old Buick and
just ride, nowhere to
go really, and yet
pleased with the world, pleased
that the trees gleamed as
we passed them by and
the road ahead of
us steamed in the sun.
