Mid day

January 7, 2009
She waits in the meadow
where butterflies bake,
and marigold stems caress shins.

Where caterpillars contort
and jasper petals wilt.

Where acrylic colors drip from roots,
and moss meanders through

At noon,
he shall collapse
like straw bails upon fragile frame,
and exhale musty air
on chest.

She crushes like hand-blown glass and
cheeks turn pink like magnolias.

Blue stone bodies are
angled at the peach sun.
boy and girl.

The humid haze.
The supple sweat.
The beginning.

The harmony of rusty grass,
entwined in their brains..
absorbed into pores
sunk into jointed bone.

Spring is born for lovers.

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