Upon typing
the last verse
she jumped
from the chair
forgetting to close
the windows
and ran through
the wooden halls
of the country house
outside into the
joyous wildflowers
swaying like pendulums;
The afternoon breeze cool
and **** like green apples.
Joy was skipping
until the summer air
froze her heated throat.
Clouds brimmed purple
dewing her nose,
head buried when
droplets fell,
summer's ecstasy
melting into lukewarm pools
on a trail leading to
fallen firs.
Worried the curtains
at home were soaked,
pummeled
by clear pellets,
she was lost.
No friend to tease,
pine needles
from tangled hair.
