First Kiss

A breath across the fields, soft and low,

silver thread lacing through blades of grass,

whispering to each leaf, "Let go.

Leave thought behind as the pleasures amass!"

***

The dawn lifts shy, blushing pale,

touching each trembling limb with fire;

and in the stillness, a quiet tale

of summer’s bounty turned brittle liar.

***

A myelin sheath wraps branch and stem,

tiny bones draped in winter’s lace—

melting, each delicate gem

forgetting itself in frosted disgrace.

***

By noon, the memory of morning’s kiss

gives way to warming plains.

The field lies bare, but not below notice ,

fell hounds stalk, reveling in bloody stains.