Around the boulder I spied the day’s bare

conclusion, pink; stepped right in a tide pool

and threw my hands to the slippy granite

hoping to find yours among the many.

Screw falling down; unite raincoat plastered 

with red leaves. It's a new way to be fine:

Trees will lean down later to pat our hair.

Peaches yolk yellow flushed with giddy wine

looked good enough to eat, were all bone-hard. 

We picked just to have picked, earn an opal

of work sweat and kick back in the Airstream.

“I made you a refreshing drink,” Penny 

hands me a glass and says. “Guess what's in it... 

orange juice, milk, and vanilla ice cream.”