It’s Pronounced Bæzəl

Listen to the elders.
Their beseeching spilt
over dry leather cracks
and smoked spices.
Painful cinnamon
with a hint. 

Piscine odored mist 
upon the bridge
connecting feelings
one so bereft,
so clouded...

Lemonade day breeze

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Another Compromise

Awakening on its journey,
a smell of slight decay.
Leaves sloughing from the canopy. 
A zombie losing the safe promise
of summer fruits.
Scurry and hurry to the beat
of a sacred, albeit fatalistic, 
yearly routine.
Close to where we started,
but no less sweet to see,
the two by two's; the families; 
their long sleeves