Home 29.08.2021

you cannot tether a free spirit
you cannot saddle a wind horse

you don’t have to tell me

that chasing el sol 
watching the seasons

when sprouts spring
and blossoms bloom
with words like petrichor

the world exploding from grey to green
rewarding you for all your suffering

and when the leaves begin to fall
and summer whispers prophetic sweet nothings
just before her final breath

it’s all the orgasm
that I’ll ever need.