i long for it
the feel of that
soft silk, hot
from the press
smelling of spice
and hints of
far away orange
scrawling over scarlet

the summer breeze
which sings of forever
but implies coming sorrow

and hear it
there in around
the dry and straining
vines digging in
stealthy red earth
jory loam and chocolate
windblown loess laurelwood

and long
i sit long
for it,
that wind
from the back
of forever

and here and gone.