Slow Afternoon

Slow afternoon
Hidden 
In high grasses
Jet streams
A world away,
And beneath our arms
The spinning earth
Turns our heads
To smile 
Into a buttercup 
Taste honey
On our lips
And then,
To gather up 
The remnants
Of another picnic
Below another
Azure sky.

And arm in arm
Make tracks for home.

JL August 19. 16:30