They are laughing
Slivers growing to crescents to pearlescent orange slices between their lips
Vodka voiced and bourbon blooded
They recline like a pile of leaves
Rustling playfully
They are dreaming of great escapes
Bear footed races across the root
Thickened mountains
Wings above their hearts
And rivers pumping through their veins
They are full of moonshine
Stinking sweet and hot in the throat
Illuminating themselves
And creating reality in the warm palms of their hungry hands
They are wood nymphs and satyrs beneath their skin
Kissing beneath their mothers and fathers
Boughs of hickory and mist, harvesting
Thin milk strands of light
In deep, dark saucer belladonna eyes
To condense into ink for tomorrow’s stories
But tonight
Tonight they are laughing at all volumes
And the world loves them more than anything