...picked up on a long walk and carried home in your pocket
Tuesday, July 4
and become quiet
I lie on my back on the grass and become quiet. One by one, they step forward. The pale chopped circle of the moon. Honeysuckle scent edging the breeze. Swallows weaving counterpoint, and above them an aeroplane in poor imitation. And next door's roses, punching holes into the evening, as red as the reddest lipstick.