On the Playground

Fruit fully ripened Like browned bodies Squirming, bumping, wiggling Vacuuming the meaty softness from its shell Tongues licking the peel Juices running Like nectar over mouth Over chin Juices running Beading and dripping like translucent pearls Juices running Streaking eager faces smudged with dust Still savoring the goodness A hand wipes The sticky residue into crumpled grasses Other limbs slowly press forward Reluctantly, they release this shimmering moment Its sweetness So brilliantly alive under the sun’s blazes Passes into nothingness Becoming but a trace memory Kathy Kroll October 21, 2015