blackberry jam

Sweet peas

The weather is blissful and the hummingbirds bountiful
I am billowing full of words bubbling up
Effervescent words that sparkle and coo as I grasp them
Filling my mouth with their heft and taste
Rolling them on my tongue just to see
If they are sweet or tart
Like the blackberry jam
Fresh from the vines
That I spread on my buttered biscuit at breakfast.

illusions

Golden Dawn

A cloud on a hot July day
gives the illusion of coolness in its shadow
but it never drops rain
or the temperature
or even a breeze to evaporate the sweat
as it trickles.

Across the brittle landscape, rabbits pant in the heat
as the asphalt rises in the yeast of the sun
to bloom sticky and black.

Writhing along the road, dust devils
stir up depressions where the small brown sparrows bathe.
Its hot
and the song of heat swells
in the throats of cicadas. Or is it wings
or appendages that rasp the tune?

Shimmering pale blue water rises
on the road. The heats playing oasis
in this desert of an afternoon. A mirage,
an illusion, a forfeiture of the senses,
summers sleight of hand. A cloud
on a hot July day.

sea dreams

bob boat 3 2016

The breeze, cool and fresh, rises from the cove
spilling across the summer meadow
bringing with it the fragrance
of sweet peas and wild roses.

The morning clouds break opening
to the soon to be sweltering sky-
I watch sunlight sparkle on the placid cove
and dream of the sounds of the ocean.

Even this mornings poem
in my inbox
speaks of the splashing foam and
the sound of crashing waves
white sails in the wind
and salt spray against the skin.

So I dress in the colors of sea and sand,
sparkling gulf stream blue, sail white,
glittering gold, pale seaglass green,
and take my dreams along the Ozark ridge
as I walk the small dog
by the placid waters of the cove
under the soon to be sweltering sky.

sowing and reaping

morning cove Jul 2015

Will you let their voices fill your heart
with anger and fear?
Remember,
peace resides there.
Look inward
and find your place in the world.
Where there is not enough,
sow seeds of peace
and leave knowing that the harvest
will be bountiful.

Wind spills across the morning cove
bringing the scent of water and sun
thru the open window.
Declaring a truce with the world,
I reap peace.

strolling through a museum on a summer afternoon

Monet and I cast our fishing lines
among the pale lavender waterlilies
swimming in jeweled green waters
in the lush garden of Giverny.

VanGogh and I plant golden sunflowers
along the allee of waving green birches
under the swirling deep blue sky
and the starry, starry night.

Chagall and I send the violin player
across the happy sky with the goat
and the veiled bride
dancing into the inky night sky.

Pollock and I spill a bit
of paint here and there
drops and drips falling gray and black
onto heavily waiting canvas.

Warhol and I line up
the tomato soup cans
next to Marilyn as the art pop
pop pops.

sugar mountain

sunset

From across the dark water,
The sound of music-

Oh, to live on sugar mountain

Above, in the starry black sky,
The crescent moon descends,
Her cheshire cat smile disappearing
Behind the western ridge.

With the barkers and the colored balloons

Small drakes with their drab little hens bob
Together on the dark deep water
As the moon’s reflection ripples past.

I grab the night’s music and
the sky’s sinking moon
Stuffing them deep into my chest,

You can’t be twenty on sugar mountain

Hoping to fill the empty space you left there
With the sound of music
And the light of the pale waning moon.

Though you’re thinking that
you’re leaving there too soon,
You’re leaving there too soon.

*** the lines in italics are lyrics from Neil Young’s song Sugar Mountain, one of my favorite artists and songs.