Kiss
by Paul McCormick


On my back
In the lilac grove;
A cloud passes behind the tip of a pine
__as a hummingbird
Pauses in the nectar.
Pink and purple petals fall
Like a fragrant snow, the perfumed air
Intoxicating;
The aroma of future dreams.






Copyright 2021 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.