Orchards

i.
I wrap my days in paper bags,
live out loud beneath blossoming trees.
Grass cradles my intentions;
fingers idling between blades of green
and quiet dandelions.
Find joy in the scent of nature,
ancient bones within the earth
giving birth to new horizons.

ii.
The boy calls out my name in memories,
encased in the whistle of winds through summer air.
We played hide and seek in apple orchards,
running until our lungs ached for atmosphere.
A stolen kiss between bites of peach,
juice clinging to the contours of our chins.
Frozen, breaths stilled,
skeleton buzzing with no place to go.

iii.
A subtle change,
shifting winds pick up dandelion seeds
and carry them to new destinations.
There is no death here.
Rebirth, cycle of life and back again to earth
as drops of rain patter on the leaves above.
Wetness sticks to my skin,
pooling in the hollow of my collarbone
as the taste of peaches linger on my lips.