first

under the flowering tree,

purple bells no bigger
than a fist.

i remember the
bushes and how they
touched our legs.

bark, our shoulders.

the remains of our felled
columns in our shoes.

the petals droop

and fall.

ants,
ants crawl
the crevices of
our faces -

lining the bone.

***

August Reynolds is a poet who's work has appeared in Red Cedar Review, Philologia, The Scarlet Leaf Review, Origami Poems Project, Poetry Nation, and creator of a book of poetry titled "The Freedom of Lavenders" published by Atmosphere Press. When he is not writing, he is often heavily invested in a good yet unheard of book or petting his cats.