Roman Grapes

by Sara Kennedy

Soft strumming of a guitar
and light through trees
makes my skin camouflage,
as I melt into this community of friends.
We relax in the shade lazily eating,
lazily lounging,
like the Romans with their grapes
with no worries,
no cares,
and only a week till freedom comes.
We wait patiently,
trees with roots for rain


Impatiently patient
for relief.

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