rhythms found
in blossoms
gathered
past that time
held beyond that midsummer sun
fragile only in a moment
cedar light pooled in a worn basin
carried in dusk-thick palms
forgotten like vows
insects sang in rings
the world spun petals into breath
we stood still long enough to dissolve
after the solstice
no map,
just heat
and the memory of shade
flint-voiced oracle
murmurs the date of bloom and disappearance
but not the reason
your name was easier to whisper than to keep
like pollen caught in throatwind