Tranquility


Tranquility is what I see before me.
A place of peace; a nice day dream.
A sun above; the grass is my seat.
There are smiles here and I have no phone to ring.


The beautiful people are lying under the sun’s rays.
The parents are watching their children play.
The couple brings a smile to the widow’s face
And as they all pass by each other,
Pleasantries are exchanged.


The dogs are barking and the people are laughing.
Friends are meeting,
To talk about when they are next going to go drinking.
It is a lovely day for all the people that I can see.
The jogger is walking, the cyclist is resting
And the artist is painting the scene.


(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Under a glowing cumulus streak,
baby bumps in the earth
roll in burlap colored dirt
and ankle scratching ferns.  

Behind them,
colored blue
by the haze of distance,
tower rock,

sharp and coarse
from years of turmoil,
look like they’re wearing
tiny white fleece caps.

My mind is almost
silent,
only speaking up to
remind me to breath.

Lay me down in fields of green,
whisper promises and dreams,
as wildflowers sway in rippled sighs,
and treetops kiss the smiling sky.
Hold me close and stroke my hair,
while breathless love songs fill the air.
Never fear for I am near,
always close to you my dear.

The skyline that I view
Ends at the sea
Kissed by mountains
Kissed by trees
Beauty is ever prominent
Standing on a peak

The skyline that I view
Ends at the sea
But the beauty that I see
Stretches far beyond

...asking if I'd "--left the kitchen because it was too hot?" as I'd brownies in the oven and dinner warming on the stove.  



(sonnet #MMMMMMCMVIII)


Lo, nary voice flits through this warm pretense
Whose eye is April's in a trice, the pale
Blue heavns white clouds dim with four geese' detail,
And yes, a silent flock of birds which thence
Fly past, light flashing off their wings, a sense
Of deathly naught held like a notice frail
Warm hours are but a tease, as sparrows fail
To merrly answer, whiles I feign what hence?
Thin nonchalance, just as last night in tour
Where I "performed" sae poorly with a crew
Of local poets at the Lit Fest.  Were
Their kindness not Thy mercies, LORD, what through
Our vain hours should we answer?  Is't sae poor
I cherish 'gain these minutes I once knew?

27Jan18