With steaming mug, I search for patio peace, but chores nag I get on with my day.
The rising sun, sweet in my ear, whispers, “stay …
Watch the monarch, orange and black, flutter by in parley with the wind.
Admire the languid hunter returned from his nightly prowls.
Sway with the dapper gents in yellow hats as they dance for me.
Listen for courtesan secrets under verdant eaves as the choir sings their morning lullabies.
Be intoxicated by perfumed maidens, resplendent in their star-white bonnets.
Pity the chitinous footmen tending every need, dutifully abstaining from the pageantry.
Laugh with the blue vested jester scolding all from his woodsy perch.”
Even as I leave to tend chore’s needs I walk with a lighter heart, for now I see the kingdomlit
in the sun’s reverie. At day’s end I hope again to hear the sun sing her parting ochre song.
My steaming mug of patio peace, bittered by chores nagging to get on with my day.
The rising sun, sweet in my ear, whispers, “stay …,
Watch the regent, orange and black, flutter by, in conversation with the wind.
Admire the languid hunter, returned from his nightly prowls.
Remember the dapper gents, their yellow hats now stowed away.
Listen to courtesan secrets under verdant eaves as the choir sing their morning lullabies.
Be intoxicated by perfumed maidens, splendent in star-white bonnets.
Pity their chitinous footmen tending every need, dutifully abstaining from the pageantry.
Laugh at the blue vested jester scolding all from his woodsy perch.”
Chores interrupting the reverie, "Hurry, it is late in the day!"
"So it is," I say. I think I'll switch to iced-tea.
Follow the Sun
Steaming mug of patio peace, bittered by nagging chore. Get on with your day.
Sweet sun whispers in my ear, “stay …,
watch the regent, orange and black, flutter, in conversation with the wind.
Admire the Huntsman, done his nightly prowls, as he naps in the sun. The blue vested jester chiding his smug indifference.
Be intoxicated by perfumed maidens, splendent in star-white bonnets.
Hear the courtesans whisper under verdant eaves as the choir sings their morning song.
Miss the dapper gents, their yellow hats stowed away.
Pity the chitinous footmen tending every need, dutifully abstaining from the pageantry.”
Today, my attentions drift with the sun.
Patio Distractions
Mug in hand, absorbing morning patio peace. Disturbed. Errand and chore. Insistent clamoring, to get on with my day.
Their call hard to hear, the sun whispering in my ear, stay, see what fun we’ll have…
watching the regent, orange and black flutter by in negotiation with the wind.
Admiring the Huntsman, done his nightly prowls, as he naps in the sun. Chided by the blue jester, for his smug indifference.
Being intoxicated by perfumed maidens, splendent in star-white bonnets, impressed with their own poise.
Pitying the chitinous footmen tending every need, dutifully abstained from the pageantry.
Hearing the courtesans’ whispers under verdant eaves as the choir sings their morning song.
My attentions drift among wood and fern. Needs of the Day banished, never to return.
Patio distractions
Early risers,
errand and chore.
Clamor for me to
start my day.
Their call is hard to hear,
with the sun in my ear,
whispering, “stay with me.”
Watch a Monarch in flight
converse with the wind.
The bee flirts with
pistol and stamen.
Admire Simon done his nightly prowls,
smug in his cat way.
Hear the secret whispers of leaves
on the gentle breeze,
as birds do sing their morning songs.
Smell the perfume of star-white peonies,
dutiful ants lending aid.
The Needs of the Day
must best wood and fern
lest my attentions drift away. Impatiently, they wait their turn.
Errand and chore always early risers, clamor, to start my day. Hard to hear, the sun in my ear, “sit with me and,” see the reagent, orange and black flutter by in parley with the wind. admire the Huntsman done his nightly prowls, smug in his way, chided by blue vested jester, perched on high. be intoxicated by perfumed maidens, doffed in star-white bonnets self-impressed with their foliage. pity the chitinous footmen tending every need, dutifully indifferent to the pageantry. Hear the courtesans’ whispers under verdant eaves as the choir sings their morning song. Were I king of wood and fern, I’d bide Needs of the Day await your turn.
