dusk

three young turkeys

bobbing down the road


          last days 

          of summer 

          like loose change 


abandoned church 

(there is no path)

potato fields breathe 


          the hum 

          of cars approaching 

          climbs our warm wet skin 


ballgame 

on the radio 

the moon a pink dime rises 


          cantaloupe on tongue 

          my heart a pop-up 

          babe you got it 



















Comments
* The email will not be published on the website.