The smell of wild onion
Pungent, vibrant
in its protest, just cut by a careless blade
The gloaming
on tulip leaf and lilac bloom
Bird song
Whings
Through air
Neither warm nor cool
Moving towards cool
As the sun
sinks deeper below the horizon
And yet, it feels like the dawning
of a new day
I want to keep walking
strawberry cake still sloshes
in my belly
but my grandmother
has told this
fully grown woman
she needs to be
home before dark.