Love in the Cane Field-After the Grinding  The young groom wakes to stars and October chill  to find a trail of bedclothes disappearing  into the children's cane. There's nothing left  of the festival, save the smoke that lingers·  above the burned fields. The cane's been pressed,  the trucks readied for the trip to town.  Here and there nighthawks skim the clearing  for mice. There's no other movement  above the rows as he gathers wood for the. fire.  He tries to think of the evening they've just passed alone, the lines of her back beneath the moon,  the hope of money this year's cane will bring,  but cannot keep his mind from what waits for her between the stalks-snakes left from summer,  sinkholes yawning for her legs, blades  left carelessly about. He does not blink  until the cane parts, releasing her to the clearing  naked and smiling, stronger than he knew.  In the fire's glow he sees a spider web  stretched across her stomach, hip to hip,  the shine of her skin against the night, her eyes  closing slowly with each step toward him.  Next year's growth surrounds them in the dark,  and morning holds its breath across .the fields.  Excerpted from What Passes for Love by Jack Bedell All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.