surprised?

that there are tears falling

on your lifted in a smile lips

salty and then sweet like

cherries picked in the summer

from grandma’s trees

marking you with a blessing

of deep red stains

a memoir of the work

you have done to burst that

gift of nature in between

your teeth

with pleasure

so ceasing so lingering

so temporal so permanent

in memory, in all the intimations

of lightness, of your being