the backyard, season by ephemeral season
Lately can be characterized by lots of New.
i'm no longer sixteen.
i ate chocolate covered strawberries in the dark
with new friends,
threw the leaves and the bitter white crowns into
the grass that has the privilege of never missing a moonrise.
i envy the grass sometimes,
glowing in its frosty veil like a bride to everyone and no one--
perhaps the sun.
then other times i remember that the grass grows
to cushion falls and heavy footsteps,
to be chewed and spat out to the earth again and again and again.
there is honor there,
yet i am not sure i'd be content with constellations
to be forever scarred with paths that are not my own.
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