Anai

My faithful shadow,
taken to soon.
Fur black as midnight,
and eyes of spring.

Sweet and protective,
though a thing
of superstition.
Shunned by some
but loved by me.

She’s still watching,
always faithful,
still by my side.

Kim Sealock
2/4/19

Fall

The mountains are ablaze
with a haze of color,
hues of red and orange ignite
the horizon of once blue ridges.

The sun creeps over
the sleepy mountains,
staining the sky
with pink and purple.

Dark clouds inch together
proving that the ominous
is beautiful.

Kim Sealock
1/21/20

The taste of green
is rainwater and dirt,
like that of a cucumber
fresh from the garden.

The taste of green
is crisp and refreshing,
like a salad in
the dog days of summer.

The taste of green
is sweet droplets of
kiwi juice running down
one’s chin.

The taste of green
is the bitter aftertaste
of lime, clinging to the
taste-buds.

The taste of green
is a deep inhale
after the grass
has just been cut.

Kim Sealock
7-21-19