All winter we had hungered for the scent of fresh rain and apples
Rain that sounds like children laughing
Shy, blushing, dew-drenched apples
On the warmer days we would set off to the sun-kissed corners of the forest clearings, cramming our pockets with late winter crocuses
Delighting in their colour and swooning into the arms of their perfume
We would chase one another in spreading circles
gently coaxing our hearts from their hideouts
Freeing our blood
Drunk on breath
Alive and spirited and in love
When the sun left and the shadows grew and everything became hushed
(No birdcalls
no whisperings
no crackling of leaves
Like the quiet before storms
or tears
or rage)
we returned, whole-souled,
to banality
Moonflowers opened and stars kissed glass lagoons
and church bells chimed their siren call
and the righteous marched to worship,
(coiffured and pompous and as inflated as the price of gold)
And we, blushed as apples and laughing like rain, wished them sweaty summer nights
And gods that make noise in the bedroom
(mish 2021)
