Summer Wine in August

The Dark Fantastic: Literature, Philosophy, and Digital Arts

Outside my window the sky is steadily bleeding.
Pools of liquid mirrors hinting mauve and shades
of gray, sprinkle patterns, curlicues dissolve or swirl,
and trees in the distance blend with the foothills;
mists rise and snake their way along the river
 I walk alone, simply happy to be here, feeling
rain upon my naked face, the tears of heaven breaking
on my nose. I flick my tongue out and catch a rain drop:
an electric sensation, a calibrated inflection of summer wine.

– Steven Craig Hickman ©2014 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.

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