There was a perfect August evening once
I have stopped wondering if there will be another
Those of us who are not strangers to the true reality wait. And wait.
Gaze for a beam to pull distinctly into happiness
Many good, lingering reasons why the realities
stop people in their tracks.
Forget to lead with their smell
let their mind wander in hopeful imagination.
Not for a specialist extraordinaire, blessed to travel
the world and learn
tips and secrets.
A vast menu, always being creative,
unbridled in the belief that what goes into the mouth
should taste divine and explode all your senses.
My ocean was sky calm on the way home
Framing rest, restoration
The sun knows when to blind and cause pause
Before the coruscate
Then all light is yours.
It is good, always, to plant something new.
It stays behind, alive or dormant, enriching forever.
Even when no one knows. Even if just red high tops.
Go ahead and enjoy the peeking from the white shirt, knowing its ruse.
Enjoy my words, despite not really knowing me; wonder how my touch will be,
to probe how curious you are.
exciting for me to think this, as I write.
that for a few moments you tell me, show me, ask me.
each time talks,
more words insist on
going to you.
the moon is quiet now, waiting for me to begin
my song to you.
so I sit and smile at the beauty here and what it grows
As Venus gives me a quick wink
The plenilune chuckles as so many
gasp in awe of its brightness and brilliance.
It is fine to vouchsafe, to
divert true intentions.
Its codicil’s secrets wait and wonder
In a hidden clearing
when the world will find its ballet truth.
As I remember, smile faintly and deeply, at the pas de deux
If it ever will
at night when we battle to sleep,
remember to look on the edges for the paths to tomorrow
To the glorious smell of wet tomato plants
Symphonic thump of a happy tail
It was pure heaven. Pure happiness. I looked and knew right away
With no doubt at all.
it was the moment.
Now just crossing things off the list, as caliginous time marks. Hang up the jump rope.
There was a perfect August evening once.
Glad you’re writing about love and not war zones, carnage, God knows you’ve seen your share.
Very nice poem, Tom