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May 2019
Ha, all the little details my daddy worried over me about is it?


O how the dove coos softly in dawn's pale
Eye!  Warmth a light caress as songs trill thence
Through Sunday's hallowed peace, a ghostly sense
Of silence hovers as none else t'avail
Breathe here except the wind whose cool exhale
'Non whispers through tall grass and leaves fr'intents,
Morn's golden shafts upon the mowed lawn hence
Like fragile notes playing hide-n-seek, to fail.
Showrd, dressed, start that machine for coffee, poor
As using canned joe after I've penned through
The years so many lines on beans as twere
FRESH-ground; boil water for my porridge too--
That "instant" stuff I oft deplored--and fer
Aught see how last night's rain winks as the dew.

NOTE:  That closing note is the answer I failed to acknowledge, else I never should have written this naughty complaint.
Jenny Gordon
Written by
Jenny Gordon  46/F/Elgin, IL
(46/F/Elgin, IL)   
     Max Neumann and Wk kortas
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