Assorted

Assorted

The rustling of the grass in the wind
and the chirping of crickets
is all you can hear
as the smoke rolls across the bog.
Seven stand in a circle
blissfully ignorant
and unaware
of what lies ahead
simply enjoying  the warm summer night,
the dank green nug,
the spark of a flame.
As the lighter clicks, it
Echoes.
Round and round
they go.
Echoes of laughter rolling across the sky.
 
So hazy.
If the sun was shining it still wouldn’t penetrate
the wall surrounding seven
standing in a circle.
In the bright moonlight they assess one another,
laughing, teasing, eyes watering.
By the pond they joke a bit.
Who can’t hold their shit?
Red faced and out of it?
A few feet away the water laps,
the sound blends in softly against the
Echoes.
Round and round
they go.
Echoes of coughing thrumming across the grass.
 
The velvet sky above
is spangled with stars so bright,
it’s as if they are bits of the sun itself
falling to shine upon seven
standing in a circle.
Down to the tip
and still they go,
burning their fingers
and reveling in a taste so sweet
it might never be legal.
When from the road above shines a light
and the stunned silence has no impact on the
Echoes.
Round and round
they go.
Echoes of sirens approaching in the night

-Heather Cobb