I never wanted to be a mother
Not because I dislike kids
Just wasn't something I ever considered
It was never a priority
Not something I considered in my calculations

Over a year ago
I was asked to be a godmother
Hell why not
They call me Aunt Bootcamp
Self-explanatory
Although kisses and hugs
Are always available

And sure they're cute
But I'm literally
The laziest person I know
Unless I'm working
...Or looking after kids
Appratently

So there he is
"20 months old"
-What is up with the whole month- thing anyway?-
Squeezing the content
Of his juicebox in himself
Laughing like it's greatest thing ever

So his mum put him in the shower
I'm looking for towels
Socks, shirts and extra pants
Cleaning up juice
Off the floor
And the table
Consequence of a glass knocked over

He casually pees on my carpet
And somehow it only made me laugh
Preconditioned to get up
And catch him as he falls
Wondering how I got be so fast
Not even remotely annoyed
As he smiles and looks me in the eye
And does exactly what I said not to do

I love the summer, I love the warm wind.
I love the smell of the barbeque,
and grabbing a cold beer from the ice filled bin.

Laying in the hammock with a few good books,
While the sun shines on me, helping me tan my looks.
The swimming pool is ice cold on a hot summers day.
The soothing feel of the water helps take the stress away.

Hamburgers, fries, hot dogs, and cola;
This American night cannot get any better.
Family and friends, sharing endless laughs,
Having too much fun, as the time starts to quickly pass.

Ending the night with a late night bonfire,
Watching the smoke rise hire and hire.
Finishing off with magical, jaw dropping fireworks.
Gazing in the sky with amazement, this is life's best perk.

Oceans unexplored
And planets undiscovered
Lie within her eyes

Floccinaucinihilipilification
Is what I strive to write
Something so rare with finesse and flare
That will open up any minds eye

A poem that celebrates the beginnings
And lets go gracefully of the end
A poem that when it is written
Will lift the weary heart of man

That when you open up life's pages
Here is where you'll find
Floccinaucinihilipilification
In all that it is that I write

This was written in the dark.
Whispered in the night.

It was wished upon a rising sun,  
Released in morning light.

Less a poem than a prayer,
A whimper more than scream.

Born as naked hope and watered,  
Grown from faint idea to dream.

Now the sound of summer coming;
Breezes rustling greening leaves,

Leaves us knowing things as growing,
Be it flowers, crops or trees.

Painless birth from earth to air,
Summer; springtime's daughter

Laughs and sings to sunkissed things,
Wet with broken water.

love that nice girl
skin dark wild
pink lips when curl
look like child.

can't just move eyes
cast them long
feel like hope rise
fill with song.

when runs fawn feet
winds soar wing
hear then love beat
soft tune sing.

she's that girl
core rich wine
hair with dark curl
mind gold mine.

I can smell the heat of the day
The off gassing of materials
The decomposition of grass
I smell the earth drying in the bake
         of this southern sky.

Surrounded by birds
making orchestral music
I soar high with them