A Wind, Promiscuous

A freshening wind
Promiscuously winds down the creek
Orange-black cat darts under the eaves
Two dead branches low as if to speak

A door squeaks, opens
The firmament is shaken
The cat shrieks
LIGHTS BLINK THEN ALL IS BLACK

It matters
A grin, a dripping of red pools
Fluttering wings escape
How does the future shape
Our dreams, if only ‘if only’ were so
Old and 60 and alone
Alone

A raining morning
Turn around
Floods in Wimberley
One dead, two missing
Happiness cancelled
Rescheduled for a drier time
Happy All Saints’ Eve

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Brussel Sprouts!

“BRUSSEL SPROUTS!”
Stomped Sally Gossamer Wingstep
On her non-existent floor,
Seems she’d flown into Jonathan’s web:
A thing she’d sworn she’d never do anymore!
As he skittered up an anchor strand,
Jonathan begged for her forgiveness;
Twas an old construction, he pled;
How he whimpered at her evident distress!
The ensnared forest fairy
Was sore mad as sour mushroom-heck,
But, she softened at his contrition;
True sorrow did she detect.
“It’s ok, Jon-Jon,”
Cooed Sally Gossamer Wingstep,
As limbs and wings plopped free:
Tis been months and months
Since she’d been on this side of the Queen’s Tree.
Offering tea and lavender,
Jonathan offered a feast with friendship;
But, Sally Gossamer Wingstep quick declined—
Maybe to share a cuppa on a future trip.
Spin soaring into the morning Sun,
Sally watched as Jonathan set to toil
Dismantling the errant sticky trap
That had caused her lightness to boil.
Off to the tribe’s market,
Sally Gossamer Wingstep continued out,
Trying to remember her shopping list…
Oh yes, Brussel sprouts!

Lip Touch

Grains of sand from the road to water’s edge,
Clumps of grass grace the seaward’s fall,
Tender toes brave dawn’s early light,
To stroll into the waves so cold and all.
Squeals of joy and peals of laughter let fly—
Summer is here and time to resalt the soul.
Billowing clouds hint at storms a-coming in,
But now bodysurfing‘s the only required toll.

Find a towel, find your sunscreen,
Lip touch a smile with no daylight between.

Salt and sand peppering red tender arms,
Coke and burger calls skink across Biloxi beach;
Run ask Momma for some dollars quick.
Lunchtime’s over: let’s walk beyond parental reach.
Hand-in-hand they’re yet too young to know,
How now will ever be so very special,
But when you’re in your teens,
All that later stuff is so very subsequential.

Find a blanket, no need for the obscene:
Just lip touch a smile with no daylight in between.