Before the Heat Arrived

Up at Sky Meadows
We sweated through our circuit,
Uphill and down, of four-plus miles.
A refreshing ripple, a clear-sky draft
Breezed across the treeless fields and stroked our faces
With its gaseous washcloth-equivalent;
While in the woods, all was calm,
And the trickle of water paralleling the track
Imitated and mocked the rills
That tickled our neck-napes.
Out and into the open again, where the sun
Without a shred of cloud to inhibit it,
Dazzled us into squints and hand-shades.
And the prospect, unmuddled by haze,
Sweeping across a province of
Ponds and copses and barns and windbreaks
And ridgelines and mantling forests,
Seemed too real to be real,
Too immediate and accessible, as if
We could stair-step onto the airy canvas below us
And tramp like giants across the globe
In seven-league strides.