the backyard, season by ephemeral season

Lately can be characterized by lots of New.

i'm no longer sixteen.

i ate chocolate covered strawberries in the dark

with new friends,

threw the leaves and the bitter white crowns into

the grass that has the privilege of never missing a moonrise.

i envy the grass sometimes,

glowing in its frosty veil like a bride to everyone and no one--

perhaps the sun.

then other times i remember that the grass grows

to cushion falls and heavy footsteps,

to be chewed and spat out to the earth again and again and again.

there is honor there,

yet i am not sure i'd be content with constellations

to be forever scarred with paths that are not my own.