lammas tide comes gentle, behind the wind where it’s still
gentle, and we sleep and the earth covers us in her grass

and we are still, and the flowers grow straight from our skin

and when i look out the window there
are four wild turkeys, they mark the corners, it is
blessed as swallowtails aside a vermont creek
and there are ducklings out there, and drakes
and hens, in album cover pattern across the yard

and i am not counting time, it is passing us by
and i am alright to stay here in this
state of disconnect

and i am not counting time,

i am biding my contritions
giving my thanks

~

on the coming of lil gold