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Click hereSieve the green,
the red, the vermillion
from each of these pin-point
white infinities.
It will enter us before
our fragile awareness.
It will grow its hidden moisture
inside a tinge that hints of
the glances, the flirts, the
spilling of blood passion.
And as we walk through the orchard
hand in hand, into apple-leaf coolness
we will look up to its
shocking crimson,
taste its aroma even before
our arms reach together upward,
the stars have come alive
in the midday sun.