Or indented the ground because of a leadened quality of reluctance               the exposure to the
natural             slowed your existence           only continuing within the circle we drew        half
reclined in the long grass the sky above you shredded downward                         like a banner
after the party  ancient and finicky    the backlit darkening   taking with it details      that were to
guide   you out              shallow recollections                                   pushed into piles just at the
threshold            and again to wait                         protected  by  thin fences                                     
so thin I don’t understand               when I have become trespasser                        encased in lush
flora                                                                                                                              a thought that
enters my hand                                                              we are both contributing textures