Lingering summer.
Moon resting on the trees
Big, round, orange.
Summer's burn on my cheeks.
Laying on the brown
Woolen Army blanket
Prickly to my bare shoulders.
My suit still wet from the swim.
Coolness chilling the summer night.
Contemplating things to come.
Stroking aimlessly the moist
Green grass beside the blanket.
Moaning music drifting from the house
On the hill above.
Lazy summer coming to end.
Smokey fall and sad goodbyes-
Omens yet to come.

Wrapped in a small package;
Sitting on the table.
The light streaming from the huge window
Above the door landing on the table
Where the package sat.
Dust dancing about the golden rays
Reaching the tiny package.
Inside the secret held.
Awaiting the chance to be known.
Should it be seized before shared?
Or opened for all to see?
She ran her fingers along the edge
of the table.
Bit her lip and raised the package.
Folded so carefully.
So plainly in brown paper.
No bow, no card.
She placed it back.
Grabbed her coat.
Glanced once more about the hall.
Pushed the door and called her fate.
The brown package was past.

To sleep late;
To walk outside
and feel the warm sun;
Splash in the cool ocean;
Not worry about others.
To exist with sunburn.
Read my book as I please.
Knowing it will flee
with giggling speed
as child running past.
This week almost more
for thought of what will be.

Tarry rain smell.
Washed streets and cars.
Bar with light bulbs hanging
in the windows glistening
through the rain drops.
People scattering inside and out.
Cracked sidewalks.
Music too loud drifting as
doors open and close
filling the busy night.
Too much horn,
Wails out calling guests.
The ***** smell of people
running past to get to the next stop.
Darkness falling with the rain.
Cars drifting among the crowded street.
A horn blast and a blink of lights.
Busy night in town.

Tripping from normal.
Forgotten promises
To be recalled at later date.
Release from normal anxiety.
Time away.
With wondering thoughts.
Reckless nothing.
Freed from dysfunction.
Burnt ashes of lost thoughts.
Magnesium for the soul.
Balancing life with gentle ease.

Fork in the road;
Delay or decision;
Times in life when reason escapes;
Others the answer lands in sight;
Good days are blessings that
glow in our memories.
The bad days land on a dusty heap-
often days which were anticipated.
Sometimes the bad days are redeemed
with after-known facts that only become
apparent with maturity and knowledge.
It is neither this or that.
It is all.

Don't recall that stumble.
I remember boldly standing.
Did I stammer?
I thought I was fluent with the cause.
Did I hide behind a lie?
I thought I signed up for the chore.
How is my recollection so flawed?
Let me not back down.
I'll check my notes and get back.