by KB Ballentine
After the solstice our long slide
into night begins. We barely notice.
Toes in surf and sand, we scour
the everyday from our bodies–
spray streaking our skin,
savoring salt on a lover’s lips.
We won’t see it until the first leaf
falls, when bees caress fading daisies
with long slow sips instead of zipping
from clover to stonecrop, bellies
and legs sloughing golden dust.
The equinox will come and go
before we lift our eyes to tangled twilight
and wonder how we got here.
How far there is to go.