A time for relaxing
A time for cleansing
A time for homework, no matter how little you want to do it
It is known as God's day
the holy day
A new beginning
A fresh start
The day to reset and prepare
for the long week ahead
It the worst day
of the best part of the week
Not quite as bad as Wednesday
but not quite as good as Friday

ludicrous and lime she's bought my wine
then usher on the farm or circus daemon
was house carrying a whim to heart
where climes are thought that fighting down the hatch  
where rumors are frothy in those diamonds caught
wish only tout cookie once thunder crash has melted speed
but any counters that claim violence is deniable here
and viable to an Osborne scene but wading in traffic
as a country lane shade its spree and what lies in air was a roadside
fair in bloom on Sunday afternoons in Tamaqua boon pillared spoon

Surrounded by scraps of paper
all over the timber floor
with a pair of morning rays
gleaming over her shoulder
she seated herself in her father’s study
and cruised to the shores of Norway.

Erasing word after word
tearing pages apart
her ship sailed
through the endless waters
of the Baltic sea
passing Copenaghen.

Holding onto the deck railings
and a loose-leaf notebook
she survived a storm
and a pirate invasion.
Her pen was her sword
in the shadows of the brightest star.

Leaning on the amber cupboard
that her father kept locked at all times,
she met a male whale and a female whale
or at least she thought so;
a chain of islands and Scandinavian mountains.
But it was time to moor, the brunch was ready.

...cuz I miss YOU--but I'm certainly NOT gonna say so.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCMXX)


Blue heavns wink from thin puddles snaking thence
Across the naked blacktop, til a veil
Of clouds spread oer such seas, and warmth too frail,
How snow lies whitely on green lawns, a sense
Of what, exactly? in that note, fr'intents?
For e'en a **** grown through the cracks looks pale,
The hope of pink-tinged satin petals' tale
Upon erm, the Magnolia tree asks whence?
May will be here in April's wake, ere we're
Adjusted to the thought that Winter's through.
Why did I ever think twas not so, poor
As feeling des'late now?  Are your eyes blue?
Will I e'er know?  Or was it* all as twere
Some freighted dream I tried to realize 'new?

28Apr19b

Daffodils in full bloom
The perfume coming from the grape hyacinth

One red-winged blackbird calls to his mate
The bluebirds guard their nest

Clear blue skies make way for the intensifying spring sun

A delicious brunch is cooking in the oven
We are about to have some fun

Cheers to new beginnings and the best time of the year

I’m so relieved, my eyes are wet with happy tears