converging

in the rain,
under the moonflowers
the
answer

dripped.

what was the question?

it started with an epiphany. i held in my hand a pencil and thought of....
the harbinger

autumnal heat
youthful patterning,
the abstract and absolute. this time
i am wild in the season of death,
as primitive cells wake from their slumber on a quest for fire.

Lethargic bees swim in the dregs of summers dresses,
disobedient to the wind.
Waiting for coffee and death and a fissure in the wall.
Night is better than toasted pound cake and peach preserves;
the last bit of summer that presents its presence.

present, those damp hands unwrapped Springs packages,
penetrating the fascia of earth in anticipation of her adornment.

Earth tasting of figs, with a hint of salt.

as if waiting for a spark, the late orchestra of summer plays a matinee',
the trees sound a blusterous applause releasing their adornments.
replayed in technicolor for the color blind.
"ooh oh my oh my" echos instead of waiting for depth

and suspension.

It passes faster than a minute in darkness,
flickering across the pages of time.
Where do we rove,together in silent ecstasy?

here.
the answer
encapsulated in a bead of sweat,
reflected in a tear.
traveling the bell jars curve.