Slow Pines

Sun ascending,

through slow pines,

and all that’s left,

is summer air,

hot

fragrant,

explosively soothing,

prickling the skin,

in sumptuous pursuit

of everything moving,

too fast,

of everything moving,

above a meander.

 

Really ripe fruit,

peaches,

melon, 

blueberries,

swimming all over,

fingers

and lips, 

and all that’s left, 

is a plunge 

into ocean,

so cold,

it doesn’t make sense,

the body,

has since become,

summer air,

sun ascending,

through slow pines.

IMG_7062

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