*Soothing clouds melt like frosting
On a powdered donut by a cherry blaze sol—
The acacias smooch the squirrels in
Their ebony laps— enjoying the serene
Midday weather as it lulls the watercolor skies.
And starlings wing across like tarred pebbles,
Waving goodbye in circles.
Cottages billow out sweet aromas
Of baked apple pies that seep through
The villager’s nostrils,
Luring their bellies immensely.
A garden of lilies adorns a natural spring
With oily scents from
Their spiral white fingers—
As the villagers make dough
For their families to grow.*
