Lupine Ridge

　　 by Peggy Simson Curry

　　 Long after we are gone，

　　 Summer will stroke this ridge in blue；

　　 The hawk still flies above the flowers，

　　 Thinking， perhaps， the sky has fallen

　　 And back and forth forever he may trace

　　 His shadow on its azure face.

　　 Long after we are gone，

　　 Evening wind will languish here

　　 Between the lupine and the sage

　　 To die a little death upon the earth，

　　 As though over the sundown prairies fell

　　 A requiem from a bronze-tongued bell.

　　 Long after we are gone，

　　 This ridge will shape the night，

　　 Lifting the wine-streaked west，

　　 Shouldering the stars. And always here

　　 Lovers will walk under the summer skies

　　 Through flowers the color of your eyes