Tuesday, July 12

Viewpoint for the Fading of the Day

Sam and I
we amble through
another evening of air the color
of buttermilk, clear enough
to breathe our fill
we inhale the warm summer air
he snuffles short snorts through
his wet black nose and I
breath the buttery beauty
into my eyes
we drink a draft of evening color,
long heaving breaths-full of it
til we have both quenched our thirst
for all
the fading
in the world