Fever
Aspirations pierced,
blade of sun tears through
panting air. Sound, captured
in the t-bone lungs of a song-bird.
Shadows dance behind glades
casting doubt
as they spray their breath
between roses.
Stirring up pollen, speckled atoms,
Travelers free of charge on the back
of oxygen. As the garden breathes
a sigh of relief
the nation's lungs
contract as velvet flesh.
Copyright © Phil Naylor | Year Posted 2005
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