In a rain-kissed meadow
dew on green blades
glisten
like stars in the day
Smoke-like clouds
open wide
like pages of a book
Pedals
of rose and yellow
like lips of mother nature
bloom for the sun
and dance
for the wind
He flows
over the earth
gentle
like a singing stream
In one hand
a bouquet
of freshly-picked daisies
In the other
a knife
of freshly drawn red
A whip of his arm
sends the daisies
free into the breeze
as a smile
paints its way
across his face
Like crumbling pillars
his legs break
and he settles into
the tall grass
calling it home
as tears wipe
his smile away
and his eyes turn
to stone
Off in the meadow
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Till next time,
-Jordan Antonacci
