What Grandpa Saw

 
His heroine in long skirts
dared to steal the boyhood
he remembers now
ankles flirting
as she pedals past
petticoats winking
for the guardians of the path
a stand of dead nettles
softly slain

On she rode
past swathes of bramble
mightier in his memory
than the squishy black bounty
plundered by an orgy of finches
when summer's righteous
green cathedral ruled

And there
where the rabbits huddle  
to fornicate below
the husk of bare meadow
and maze of runs abandoned
scream more brazen
than the cheeks in a baby show

She stops
dismounts carefully
to lean her cycle
against a tree
peering in most directions once
but does not see
a crouching boy
who holds his breath
and waits

Then gathering glories
high above her waist
she squats down slowly
for a pee
a long
grateful
pleased with herself pee

The shock of thick pubic hair
heavy winter stockings
creased and wrinkled
on the shortest day
seem sweeter than a first sip of wine
and so sufficiently imbibed
the image set
forever in his mind
but keen to spare
the lady's blushes nonetheless
he turns for home--
exceedingly glad
to have ventured
so deeply
into those woods
on such a chilly
afternoon