When the juice flows

When it is warm
And the wind blows
The trees creak
The roses speak
When the watermelon is deep galah pink
And greener than a tree frog
I cut a piece so big
I can’t see my feet when I raise it to my mouth
I take a bite, huge, so my cheeks are cradled by fruit
And I am only there at that moment

When the juice flows
Up my nose
Down my chin
Flowing, running, swimming down my wrists
Into the valleys which are my elbow creases
Life is at its best

When the juice flows
I smell young, hazy summers
I recall hay and the squish of dam mud through my toes
I remember the pulsating of so much nameless want
And joyful confusing moments under peppercorn trees
I hear gleeful shouts and sudden laughter
And childish sing-song chants
I hear muffled Top 40 songs from my hidden under pillow trannie
And the giggling niggling of sleepy siblings in the back of the Holden station wagon

I see all this, I hear all this, I am all this
When the juice flows

© Maree Cardinale

When the juice flows

Maree Cardinale

Sunbury, Australia

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