07-19-2016, 05:42 PM
The sweet loam air of morning in July
spritzes from the feet of a girl
stalking frogs around a pond.
Her approach is steady, careful, vital.
There’s a gravity to the moment
before she pounces, a frozen breathlessness
that creeps up your spine and into your headspace
as though a race is about to start,
or a pretty woman’s met your eyes.
It ends with a splash
as laughter echoes heroically,
despite her empty hands.
spritzes from the feet of a girl
stalking frogs around a pond.
Her approach is steady, careful, vital.
There’s a gravity to the moment
before she pounces, a frozen breathlessness
that creeps up your spine and into your headspace
as though a race is about to start,
or a pretty woman’s met your eyes.
It ends with a splash
as laughter echoes heroically,
despite her empty hands.