Down by the sea
where the marram grass grows
there's a ******* the beach
in a rusting boat
with a tablecloth sail
and it's rudder broke
and her eyes are an ocean wide..

You have the personality of a sun
The demeanor of an ocean soothing and calm or powerful and commanding but always deep and full of Mystery
The patience of a mountain with the will of a great Redwoods roots, determined and selflessly for the sole purpose of providing shade for a loved one
The idiosyncrasies of weather multiple and variations and Beauty each indicating a specific season of mood
The presence of a bright full moon throned in a starless night and the wonderment of a butterfly Landing in a child's hand...

What I mean to say is that you are all lady, and if they say chivalry is dead then you revive it even in the most ill-mannered of men
if it does not then they are but animals

You see, you draw out not as a practice but is an instinct without having said a word from the innermost core of your soul, to the aura that surrounds you 20 feet in your circumference
You demand respect, boldly but with cadence and Grace
You need no rescuer, no salvation Nor Redemption from anyone but it will not stop me from attempting to be all of that for you just to add honor in my life
And you have been through hardship,,, but it has refined you like steel to Fire and most admirably is that you retained your elegant optimism through it all......
And yes you are all lady. And I?

I am that sunflower soaking up your raise
I am that ancient tribe Gathering from your abundance with great gratitude and respect
I am that life raft floating at your mercy and will
I am that climber learning as I ascend
I am that soil from which you can Pierce
I am that meteorologists, a keen Observer and I have made it my science to recognize your art

I am that howling wolf beckoning for you at night and when I'm with you
I'm that child with an open hand

My little grey dress
The day is almost coming

The dress is so plain
No rain

But when I have to go
Don't cry my love

My pretty
Pink lips painted
My hair not combed
But messy

The night was made to cry
Because there's no light

My time is coming
And yet I can feel
The sunrise as well

Firm, sweet and juicy;
sunrise, red and gold in hand.
Sunshine fuzziness.

We were wondering which theme to choose
For next week’s poetry
Whether to pick seasonal spring
The meteorological quirks of Cumbria
Or possibly the wintry ‘weather’
Ever present in Great Britain

I wondered whether 
‘Weather’ and ‘whether’
Held more personal appeal
Being a working man Wordsmith
With apron and hammer
And a slight Irish stammer

Soon I was wondering whether
Others had been seduced
By this knife-edge theme
Of ‘weather’ and ‘whether’

I knew I was not the first
To wonder about whether and weather
So I began wondering about others 
Who had wondered about whether and weather
Then I found myself wondering whether
Others had wondered 
Whether others had wondered
About whether and weather

Then I stopped

Sean Hunt  
Windermere March 2016

A redhead walks by
Her piercings shine in the sun
Her rings scream modern