ant5

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the succulents

breathe in

our conversation

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somewhere

up the creek

this pan fell in

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the tallest trees

in town on a ridge

by the river

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hard orange sky

the swifts on

their circuit

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under the willow

the thunder

muffled

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impatient apples

hard under

your bare feet

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green sunset

still and warm

in the dry grass

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mingling with

the sunset

storm clouds

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large enough to

stir the pebbles something

passes in the dark

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you say

confection like

it’s a bad word

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