Brambles both red and black begin their reach to birth, entangled with briar and her fresh face that is always accompanied by some sting of pain. The long hibernation of life, a shallow breathing in winter, gives up with arms spread wide, chest open and unprotected to the sun. There is a great deception in the new tenderness of May with her skies the color of summer, and stoic white cloud plateaus I could climb if not so out of reach. The air remains stiff enough to bite noses carnelian. Old father makes his last attempts to keep his daughters three inside his hovel; to keep them from shedding layer upon layer revealing shoulders and knees and lips to the wayward souls of the men of summer, but they disregard his pleas and warning laying but a gentle kiss on his cheek.
Aleathia Drehmer 2008
Published by Kendra Steiner Editions 5/08