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Night Picnic

On a night picnic

the languid quarter moon

canoes over our heads.

We eat slices of cool black sky

the luscious pieces slipping

from fingers to mouths

a sprinkle of sharp stars crunching

between the stony pearls of our teeth.

From the basket you pull a box of

cherries saying they are just the thing.

We lie on our backs shooting cherry pits

at the moon missing by a hair every time

and wish for nothing.


2 thoughts on “Night Picnic

  1. Lovely.

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