Summer Night Phantasy

While cellos of the bullfrogs call,

Moon-mother spins a thin, sheer veil,

Softens the face of night until

Each feature is made beautiful.

I hear the laughter of a troll

Who gaily twirls each tinkling bell

Of silvered aspens. Fairies smile

In lily-yachts upon the pool.

Midwest Chaparral

First in Consonance Contest, Spring 1952