marzipan grass

experiments in nature

image by the author

skipping over marshmallow pods
hidden amongst the growth of the forest,
mouth full of marzipan grass
and words never quite materialising;
thoughts interwoven like fabric
drying in the breeze, billowing in ripples
inching towards that mossy cliff, that crevice
where dead things from the years accumulate
and then melt into mulch,
but not before i sprinkle them across my fingertips
and taste their bittersweetness once again.

upon returning, the eastern winds bite
but the orange of the western sky tastes nectarous;
upon my skin, it is gentle as a lullaby
sung from domed clouds, arching and contracting,
floating by unawares of their striking beauty

there are moments i can taste it on my tongue:
something about how it only makes sense together
flowing into itself, endlessly
running in circles like time was a meadow,
flowers blooming up with the intrinsic need to greet the sun,
perennial lifetimes of cells that know the feel of each other:
this time a raindrop, only a shiver in the wind
but always coming and going
like frothy waves upon a yellow shore

image by the author