Carrying change in my pocket and a couple singles from lunch
we’re laying in the crevices of the immense rocks
Playing amongst these boulder rocks
A spot to call our own
A perfect to place my traveling blanket on
It may just be the most beautiful morning of this entire summer.

We’re setting up a picnic
I have on a loose yellow dress
Buttons laced down the whole thing
and barefoot I stand

The lilies by the water
-a perfect center piece.
Inviting all my friends,
Arms stretched wide
My breathing never
felt so full
like my lungs had been
entangled by the warmth of the sun
and by the blades of grass on the hillside.

The wind
at the slightest of a chill it could have possibly been.
And the breeze that dances across shoulders
not asking for one to put back on a knitted sweater
The type letting eyes rest open and aware
-a courteous wind.

Lilacs
sway against the boulder rocks.
Pick one,
Pick two,
I’m having a picnic.

I glance at my dirt felt toes,
stare at the highlighted grass,
then at the geese that cross the water.
The water that fills the ground,
circulates its deep blues,
and sweeps rims of waves across its vastness.

The picnic invite list includes
myself
the sun,
and the picturesque scene I’d placed myself upon.