Fresh…


Like lingering aromas

Of baking bread

Of newly discovered

Rustling tissue paper

Hiding wanted gifts

Of streets steaming

By summer rains

Of shushing tires

After thunder storms

Of white blankets

Bathing northern pines

Of orange moons

At harvest time

Of acrid smells

In hay lofts

Of espresso’s fingers

Tickling early mornings

Of the plumpcity

In children’s cheeks

Of the first

Wet lapping kiss

From a puppy

These always remain

As they were

Simply deliciously fresh