Unbereft orchards

We can borrow the cracking of the wind
And the those silent lilies, bare in the vast landscape
Obscured to calmness, hitchhiking to the empty sky
I smell home in your archaic gypsy suit,
And the magnolia blues of the childhood afternoons
Before the summer rain, you would read Rainer
And as the monsoon washed out the green meadows
Paranoia crept in your lines, in your desolate lillies
Whiskey drenched, my weathered arms reached out
Only to find you sting again.