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
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