Or indented the ground because of a leadened quality of reluctance the exposure to the
natural slowed your existence only continuing within the circle we drew half
reclined in the long grass the sky above you shredded downward like a banner
after the party ancient and finicky the backlit darkening taking with it details that were to
guide you out shallow recollections pushed into piles just at the
threshold and again to wait protected by thin fences
so thin I don’t understand when I have become trespasser encased in lush
flora a thought that
enters my hand we are both contributing textures