close photo of a woman and flowers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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