Saffron and umber -

You know what I’m talking about.
The grass was this high,
and you could hear the bell,
the clank, the clank
as the brown one moved her head.
Bud-scent actually wafted.
The wind smelled of leaves;
paintbrushed bluebonnets pushed to your lips.
And you loved someone
so perfectly
that you lost all the senses
and the world, in its pain, relied on you.
You removed your shirt to feel the field.
Edges, soil, calf skin, shade,
a rough tongue on your wrist,
rejected as inedible.
The live oak reminded you of what you had done.
Magnolia blossoms, falling across the grove,
laid mosaic on the ground,
and you forgot.
And someone dreamed on a blanket nearby,
they twitched for you
and the darkwing settling on their ankle.
If you were lucky
you laid beside their bare legs
and the cradle of summer was complete.

It always lasts long enough for you to lose it.
Lingers like the earthy veils
of scented skin
and fielded eyes.




GLS
5.7.92