Monday, July 20, 2015

Getting A Little Deep

Getting A Little Deep

you smile, 'these aint your average daisies.'  
'people dont know,' i laugh-stumble into a pitch of
passion flowers, petals teeming with fire ants in the
sable humus. you lift me back out, i sting sweetly.

a bird sings, a turquoise beetle pauses on the
spined-edge of a green maple leaf before the
black lake of knees. tiger-striped dragonflies
our shin-level guides, we tilt heads-back to feel
the rain on our dusted faces.

there in the wet, morning glories traverse the
frown frozen in the live oak bark. its chin, dark
honey, seems to chide. the whole of the egret
that lands on the acacia is not so wide as a Dickens
short story, thin as any new tablet, surely.

heron looks up but not at us, thru yellow frames
as things get steamy, we are quiet; we consent to
biting flies, avoid the poisoned oak and ivy.

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