Sundown, Black Walnut Creek

Feather light threads brushing against skin  

Cotton drags, traced by loamy lips  

swirling misty daydreams  

falling into space 

Like honey pooling into combs  

Sticky thoughts, warm and hazy 

Spread unannounced,  

capturing you  

My vivid amber held in an icebox, sealed shut  

Until the armored latch flips  

in the soft thud of black walnut fruit landing on grass  

rolling down a steep hill  

to stop at the crossroads of liminal space  

So green,  

so very green. 

Not Ripe. Raw  

Holding stone fruit, overwhelmed  

soaked in scents of citronella and pine,  

oils lingering on fingertips  

The sky consumed the sun,  

the moon’s pearly sheen gleams into focus  

hanging on the weave of the sky, beholden to none  

Sometimes turning vivid crimson,  

Weighted in passion 

Then pulling back  

crumbling --  

stars  

Stolen kisses 

the way you occupy my senses,  

in every quiet moment  

hollowing out reality