We sway in the breeze,
Heralding the summer-
Just for the season,
Heady with delight-
The color of ripened peaches-
We are ready to be savored-
An orchard of time
Sculpted this-
Maybe just –
Written postscripts
In between-
The forgotten ditches-
Held in by the grace
Of kindness,
To plucked-
Shared-
Savored-
Before the wind
Does Her own mastery
Of
Forgetfulness.