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  Apr 2016 Mary Winslow
Trevon Haywood
Outside it rains
Sitting in my porch I watch,
The elements mix and mingle
Kneading the pulverized dust

This is summer rain.
It comes and goes
Like teenage romance
Licking rising flames of heat

It sinks fast into the mud
Promising new sprouts of green
Sieving deeper into my mind
Reviving faded dreams!

Rain drops flop and break
Over boulders and flow downwards
Raising the scent of roasted earth
Mixing with the smell of fresh Jasmine

I hear the roar of wind
Trees casting leaves by its current
Spectres of green spiralling down
And flown hither and thither

I watch the race of truant clouds
And how they collide on their track
Breeding florescent light and rumbling sound
Like a small firework in the sky

I hear the rain all around
Hold it in my palm
Feel the thrill of the first firm grip of my love
And my senses aglow with a soothing calm

These summer drops carry such grace
How the starved earth ***** them in!
On asphalt roads how they glide and dance
And how quickly disappear out of sight

As I look on, the rain stops
And its rattle suddenly stilled
Like a beautiful concert
Abruptly closed, leaving waves of joy!

The sky that peered through veils of grey
Beamed and brightened once again
With all its ache washed away
In the purging tears of crystal drops!

Valsa George. 4/11/2016.
  Apr 2016 Mary Winslow
Gidgette
I always wanted to be a "Bond Woman"
The kind of woman James Bond would want
****, exciting, worldly, mysterious
Bossoms to die for
But no,
I'm a "book woman"
The kind of woman who can recite Emily Dickenson in my sleep
Reading glasses that are eternally falling off my face
Bossoms?
Not so much
When the Bond women are wet,
They look like water goddesses
I look like a drowned rat
Plus my glasses fog up
A blind, drowned rat
I think its safe to say,
I'll never be a "Bond Woman"
I'm a "Book Woman"
And I guess that's ok

Here's to all us "Book Women"
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