Lexi Balevre Perry
The gentle light in the morning
And the heat reflecting off the chills
Clasp on to the past.
The grass turns cold
When the sun goes down.
The creatures sing
When the heads turn around.
I am a different person in the moments
When everybody is busy
Making other plans.
It’s two different worlds
And my feet can’t touch both.
But when petrichor
Fills meadows
A sheer layer
Of both
Merges.
