Picnic

By Bruce Ducker

They put away the plates and lay
In the eye Of the sun. He locked her words
In the rocks and buried whispers in the pine needles.
They pressed their bodies into the ground
And in the shallows spread secrets.
Her cries of joy she hid in the chalcedony,
Sank them in the quartz rivers Of outcrop.
And the next spring, when the earth shifted
And the cries slid out, jays and juncos rallied to
See what Was the ruckus.

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