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Aug 2017
Red apples hang next to green leaves,
black ants; slowly crawl in a continuous line,
yellow and brown bumbles hum around,
goats, Meh-eh-eh! Meh-eh-eh! in the pen.

Dewdrop jewels hang from leaf tips,
falling occasionally in the light breeze,
stainless steel glimmers in the sun,
as the blade bites into the apple's flesh.

Juice runs down lips and chin,
a sweet liquid flow perfuming her neck,
and continuing down between pert *******,
resulting in a quivering motion as it tickles.

Sticky sweet kisses, like apple cider,
walking, as hands and fingers knot together,
golden tansies stand alongside the orchard,
I pluck one and put it behind her ear.

Grass, mown short under bare feet,
a path toward the house, birdbath in front,
bluebirds preen, blue and rose beige feathers,
calling out a trilling chirp, background music.

A pair of front porch rocking chairs,
white wood, with brown wicker seats,
anticipate us, as the sun begins to set,
and crickets begin to sing the evening's song.
The Fire Burns
Written by
The Fire Burns  M/Artesia, NM
(M/Artesia, NM)   
139
 
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