Summerland

January 31, 2018
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Now!
You lie on your back in the sweet moss, lupin
Eyes closed

Now!
The sun pulses a private lightshow on your lids
Tempered by scuttling of clouds

Now!
Green-blue seeps in the pores of your sweaty soul

Now!
Is too pastoral to be the cybortic-clanking future

Now!
Too blistered-gritty to be the sanitized past

Now!
Has been scratching at the door
Waiting for you to peek the rise since the aster began blooming
 






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