I  love  to  walk  the  garden  long.
When  all  the  winter  storms  are  gone.

Yes,  snowdrops  are  the  first  to  show.
Majestic  heads  come  with  the  thaw.

Blankets  of  crocus  are  quite  a  sight.
Pushing  upwards  towards  the  light.

Colorful  daffodils  like  soldiers  stand.
The  finest  regiment  in  the  land.

In  June  the  roses  in  fancy  dress.
Reveal  their  splendor  for  the  sun  to  caress.

Dewdrops  form  as  summer  fades.
As  sharp  east  winds  sweep  up  the  glade.

The  flowers  then  close  their  weary  eyes.
And  sleep  once  more  till  spring  arrives.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Not like the stories, is it?
Or the movies, or the expectations
we get from all that.

It's about people who travel with baggage
they carry when
they move into your life.  

It's heavy sometimes, and ugly and you have
to help them carry it, which isn't much fun.
Not like what it was supposed to be;
nothing you want to do;
not fair at all…

So what it is, love that is, takes all the stuff
from the stories and expectations
and adds understanding, acceptance, accommodation
because that's what it takes to help you
carry someone's baggage…

and what it takes to help them carry yours.

I took a walk in the woods and a patch of Kudzu turned black. I leaned up against a tree and all of it's leaves turned brown. I went swimming at the beach and the Algae turned red, perhaps that's why I am banned from the ocean? I once lay down in a bed of poison Ivy and I had to chase it to get it to support me. I am not really sure, but perhaps plants hate me.

the key to our situation
is surreptitiously
concealed under the doormat
where anyone who wanted in
would look…
and so, my love,
I will pretend to be
surprised I found your
key if you will pretend to be
surprised when I come home..