She

She innocents my protective thin
endearments of out-
reach, I grow young as vines.
I am the inference

retrieved from long lines
of indifference miming
an affection penciled in
to squares thought sacred

as an eminence
primed with plumage
that won't count,
as honoraria thumb west,

where ripe adventure graces
limbs responding
to light wind then bocce balls
of thunder cracking mindful nest.

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