The sun with golden sandals walks
Across the fields, while Hollyhocks
Hold high bright tapers of glad June.
At night a silver yacht, the moon,
Sails on the lake. My love and I
Stroll on its shores while killdeer cry,
And on the willow harps, a prayer
Is strummed by night winds passing there.
Montana Poetry Quarterly
Hon. Men. in Anonyme Contest