the picnic

 

a quiet bell tolls from someplace far enough to make it so

carried

by the same delicate current of air
that wafts a perfect mixture
of her sun-warmed perfume
with the runaway scent of a distant thunder cloud

across
a
yearning
yellow
blanket

to an overwhelmed smile
that trembles at the effort
of distinguishing
which is more consuming
 

 

© Gerry Mattia 2024
© “Patio Poetry” 2000 - 2024