Humid
Posted by Kristina Yenko , Wednesday, September 2, 2009 9:20 AM
What is it about evening light,
that has the air laced with sweet perfume
Bare neck and shoulders bathed with gold
And dandelions almost too rich to stand tall
The sky was painted over, a perfect uniform violet
Soft little bugs bumped into each other
and I breathed in the brimming fluid of life
Two strangers turned into dust
walking along empty ghost roads,
still warm from the day before
Then the last thread of sun melts along the curves
of hills, soaked in hungrily,
Gone.
What is left, is that small moment.
Just one memory.
The first night of spring.
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