Movement reduced
To standing still
In suspension of disbelief
And relishing
Cuffed jeans,
Bare feet
Embracing home never seen,
Christmas sweater glistening
Under summer evening
Long hair like willow
Washed aglow in choruses
Of such tenderness
At the edge of all things
The crickets sang
Of arrival and rest
Embellishing presence
With luminosity
Reciprocating every breath
Smoke molded whiskey and pine
Into a blanket enveloping
Stitching skin
Forming recondite bonds
With nature and dreaming
The night seemed to undulate
Gracefully lucid
As if the constellations were twinkling
Simply for us,


Author: Montana Svoboda

I'm a genderless poet currently living in Central Michigan where I attend college for Environmental Science and English. Nature's some cool shit, frisbee's a neat activity, fountain pens are best pens, Latakia for life, coffee and tea keep these gears turning.

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