May 4, 2026, Ecowriting Retreat
Copyright © 2026 by Elonda Clay
When I stand near the door
there is only a trail of pungent sweetness
that tells me which direction you are sitting,
waiting for me.
As I approach you,
your forest-faded cinnamon skin
Your sun-saturated flesh
let’s me know
the season for our meeting has arrived.
Oh how I’ve missed you!
And dreamed of the moment
when my lips slide across your stem,
and my teeth slowly sink into your pulp.
My tongue gleefully rolls
the first juicy bite
of mango
to the back of my mouth.
Only to anticipate
making it happen
all over again!
Elonda Clay 