Rough spring planting

With gnarled fingers grasping ebony
he steals away from the gathering
to sit alone looking over his pastures,
to remember that far off time
when she was very young and
he took her for the first time.
How she cried when he entered her
a haughty daddy's darling knowing
nothing of the needs or ways of men.
His virginal bride to have and use,
the cries that made the blood
thunder in his mind till thrusting
was all and everything as he spilled
his seed deep and hot within.

She bore him eight fine sons, each
one made from rough spring planting.