The season I decided
I didn't want to
Rip dead grass from the ground
And plate it like a fine meal

But sow new seeds
And look forward

***** where the greener pasture is,
I'll grow it myself.

Rising from the
womb of the Earth
something is being
stirred inside me.

Could there be anything
more sensually satisfying
than a stew
laced with the
romance of
crushed roses?

Slowly, wrapping
around my tongue,
savouring each bite,
I feast with each nibble
peppered heat
spiced with the
woody caress
of cinnamon;
An invitation
to pause in
pleasure

Soft apricots
pulsing with
sweet nectar
explode with
the essence of
The Goddess
sending a wave
of warm bliss
into the cauldron
of my belly.

Satiated,
tasting the
last kiss of
Summers rich
harvest, I rest.

I felt the harvest
Though I was in the mountains
The forest was ripe

Fed by summer heat
The foolish spring garden grew
far beyond its plot
So frightening its bounty
the harvest rots on the vine

in a darkened, smoky room
getting lost amongst the swell
third eye spies my walking doom
an angel, staring straight from hell
black eyeliner, matching attire
Designer, destined
to set souls on fire
destination heaven
no designated driver
begging for attention
I had to feed the pyre

she enjoys the tension
in it for the chase
I'm here on propension
could be any race
like a Disney princess
twice the grit and charm
every piece a twin set
she takes me by the arm
tells me I should drink this
hands me something fizzy
I downed it in an instant
started to get dizzy

and I can't remember
what she said her name was
something like Amber..
Erica.. Blair .. uhh. .
as her face was melting
she told me to sit down
but the stool kept bending
and I'm on the wood now
she's bent over double
tried to pick me up
but I'm seeing double
I might be in trouble

battle with the stairwell
I had to hold her hand
asked her what she did, she said
you wouldn't understand
I asked again, that was when
she let go of my hand
small miracle I didn't fall
'cause I could barely stand
somehow made it to the back seat
asked her where we're going
she just closed the door and said
you're better off not knowing

Grief arrives like a mist across the fields.
Bees brave the morning chill to work the last of the marjoram.
The suprise swallow nest, above the shop door, is empty.
There's a metal taste in my mouth.
It's like the tea I used to get from the Friends stall at my local hospital.
Left.
Over-stewed.
Late Summer throws her gifts at us with outrageous generosity.
Plenty beyond reason
Harvest beyond measure.

green bean
don’t be so mean
just come clean
I know you want to be seen

hiding under the leaves
don’t be such a tease
your song has been sung
it’s time to please
my tongue