| New Air
the lilies uncurling are laden with promise as the souls slide out into the new air soft kissing the eyes that notice the twisted tips and the yellow tongue if it weren't for the jasmine seeking the sun wild; my backstep would be doomed to concrete and steel all the purple eyes are peeking over the fence abandoned ball among the weeds red explosions and nuts spot spot spot the ancient gum story-keeper of all the yards shalome � 2005 |