A man can make a hungry angel blush
red wine wets their silent wind-blown lips
sweet summer pine, dark-green and rich,
to the earth, sets down its paint-brushed tips
Late afternoon, heavy sun turns the world
into a quiet, hollow, blood-orange pearl
flooded with a lush and lovely, deathly rust
The air is charged and alive; serene and crisp
I sit and watch a brilliant, dancing squirrel
-9-24-13; 2: 55 a.m.-
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Simply a great and fun write. And as you state a most enchanting and memorable day. We would all be lost souls without the nature and its wildlife to view and reflect on. Full marks good sir.