IT IS THAT TIME
OF THE YEAR,
WHERE A SLICE
OF HEAVEN
ARRIVES AROUND
MID-AFTERNOON,
AND I SWOON
ONTO THE TINY
SPACE
(MY FAVORITE PLACE)
SURROUNDED BY
MANY VERSIONS
OF GREEN OFFERINGS
PROVIDED BY
MOTHER NATURE
AND LOVED BY
ME,
FOR AS YOU SEE
THIS QUIET
SUMMARY OF
DREAMS
SEEMS TO CALL
OUT,
NUDGING THE
COOL GLASS OF
WATER,
READING MATERIAL
AND A FAVORITE
VERY OLD TOWEL
FROM THE DARK
AGES OF
CRYSTAL COVE,
SURVIVING AND
FOLDED NEATLY
ALL DURING THE
DEATHLY COLD
OF MONTEREY
WINDS,
WE BOTH WAIT
FOR A CHANCE
TO CHILL
WITH LEGS AND
SUNSHINE
THE CHOICE
IS MINE,
JUST A CASUAL
GLANCE
TO SEE
IF BY CHANCE
THE UPPER
NEIGHBOR
IS PEERING
OUT THE WINDOW,
AT THE SECRETIVE
VISIT OF MS. WINSLOW…
AFTER ALL,
WHAT ROMANTIC
SERIES OF DREAMS
ARE TOTALLY
PRIVATE,
WHILE PEEPING
TOM’S
ARE ONLY
INVISIBLE
TO THE NEWBIES
OF SUNBATHING
JUST BEFORE
YOU RELEASE
A SCATHING
SMILE
AND THEY
BACK AWAY
FOR ANOTHER DAY,
FOR THIS TIME
OF THE YEAR
IS NOT
WITHOUT FEAR
IT’S THE HALF
WAY
TO EXPOSE THE
PLAYS
OF ROMANTIC
NOODLING,
STRICTLY MENTAL
ALWAYS GENTLE,
THE POSING WITH
A NEWSPAPER
IS ONLY A TREAT
A WAY TO DEFEAT
THE PRIVATE WARMTH
OF THE LONG
BROWN LIMBS
THAT CRAVE THOSE
SUNNY WHIMS
AND A WANDERING
MIND
SWIMMING ALONG
CLOSING THE
EYES
FOR A SNAPPY
SURPRISE,
FOR SURELY
THE SOUL WILL
SPEAK
AS THE BREEZE
BLOWS,
SENDING VISIONS
OF FANCY CLOTHES,
DATES TO COME
AND JOBS TO RUN,
ALL IN THE QUEUE
OF THE FINE ART
IN LIFE,
SNEAKING THROUGH
THE DARKEST
HOURS
TO THE BRIGHTEST
MOMENTS OF
MORNING FLOWERS,
I DREAM OF THINGS
NEVER BEFORE SEEN,
OR MAYBE OLD
BOYFRIENDS
ARE PART OF THAT SCHEME,
WITH EYES
CLOSED
AND MIND POSED,
I RELEASE THE
SAD…
THE BAD
THE PAST,
KNOWING THEY
WILL NEVER
LAST,
FOR TOMORROW’S
SUN
WILL COME
AGAIN,
AND IT WILL
BRING
THE TIME
TO WIN!
©JW WINSLOW 5/1/2022