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