A soul full of cider
wanders,
thoughtfully sipping
a solitary, wind-swept hill
crunching colors,
then drinking deeply.
The apple-red happiness burns,
igniting cheeks
now stuffed
with majestic vistas.
Crumbs of shared smiles
cling,
like cinnamon-sugar,
and jack-o-lantern grins
expose
the tiny, flicker of flame within
that yearns,
burns,
longs to see itself
in trusted eyes
leap joyful
again,
and again,
and again.
It is, indeed, time for apple cider.
(Cherice Montgomery, October 5, 2003)
wanders,
thoughtfully sipping
a solitary, wind-swept hill
crunching colors,
then drinking deeply.
The apple-red happiness burns,
igniting cheeks
now stuffed
with majestic vistas.
Crumbs of shared smiles
cling,
like cinnamon-sugar,
and jack-o-lantern grins
expose
the tiny, flicker of flame within
that yearns,
burns,
longs to see itself
in trusted eyes
leap joyful
again,
and again,
and again.
It is, indeed, time for apple cider.
(Cherice Montgomery, October 5, 2003)
No comments:
Post a Comment