The here and now

is far superior

to there and then.

The outhouse,

a splintery mess.

No sprinkle of lime

could quench the stench.

But the well-digger’s daughter,

clambering up in the murky light

of the hayloft, giggles in excitement

from the scent of newly-moan hay,

— my face smothered

between her ample bosoms,

was another matter.

Where and when,

a giant question mark

like marriage vows:

for better or worse,

in sickness and health.

You will be the first

to know, whatever is, is.