I. My man and I
Out for a
Cruise in the
Sunshine with the
Top down and the
Radio blasting our
Favorite tunes.
Damn, these
Florida
Winters are
Brutal.
II. Late winter sunshine
Indulging my contentment
Basking feels so right.
III. Snow where is thy sting?
My northern brethren know well
I revel in warmth.
Peace, people!
I’m standing in
My closet
Trying to
Decide what to
Wear.
I have not
Checked the
Weather.
I go to do so
On my
iPhone,
But I notice
There are unread
Notifications on
WordPress, and
Facebook, and
Pinterest.
After reading one
Particular post I
Realize I must
Google the population of
Guatemala before I
Forget so I can
Update a future
Article, and then
I go back to the
Bedroom closet to
Dress for the
Day.
That’s when I
Realize I still
Must check the
Weather
On my
iPhone.
Repeat as necessary
Until dressed.
I. favorite number
five; superstition dictates.
i am a child born
on the fifth day of
the tenth month, a multiple
of five. mystical.
Photo from HowardDavidJohnson.com
II. give me five, one hand
thrust open in greeting, slapped
up high, down low, slide
across palms touching, friendship
displayed playfully.
Photo by David from Society 6.
III. ring ’round the rosie
pocket quite full of posey,
all but five fall down.
a circle drawn in
childish games mocking death’s role
In childhood forgot.
Jeu d’enfants a Riquewihr-1920’s -Alsace-Robert Doisneau
Circling in the waves,
Caught up in an
Eddy,
Reeling from
the done,
The finished,
The read.
Now what?
Am I supposed
to forget
Those I grew to love,
to fear,
to hate?
Where do they go
When I turn the
Final page,
When we part ways?
I finished book two in a three-part series yesterday. Rushing to shop in my Kindle bookstore I was dismayed to discover that book three won’t be available until March. Of 2016. I’d cry if I thought it would do me any good.
The point is, I broke my Cardinal rule of reading: Thou shalt not begin a book series until at least three books are available to purchase.
Three is a great number because many series end there. If I waited until every book in a series had been written and made available to the reading public I might not ever have gotten to read the Game of Thrones series. As it is I’ll probably die before knowing what happens to John Snow, et. al.
Thank heaven for Facebook, though. After posting a plea for good book suggestions my feed was pleasantly inundated with not just good, but great recommendations, including that of a novel, The Adventure of the Yrsa written by a friend under the pseudonym, Lillian Sullivan.
My cup runneth over!
Peace, People.
Flashbulb lightning
Residual flash
Temporary
Celebrity.
Shouted interrogatory
Penetrates dark,
Manufactured
Histrionics.
Hurried exchange
Hissed advice,
Prevaricate!
Obfuscate!
Stricken beauty
Softly demurs
Fabricate?
Never!
Amendment pled
Stricken eyes
Motivation?
Vanity.
I’ve never shied away from telling my true age. Never pled the fifth. For many years I loved hearing people exclaim, “You don’t look ___!” Now, I believe all my years, like chickens, have come home to roost. And they’re having a wonderful time creating havoc with my looks.
Peace, people!
I tried in vain to find
February 29.
Alas, it does not
Exist in 2015.
Less compassionate
Folks might not care
That February gets
Short shrift.
But I do.
Peace, People
I thought for awhile
That Mr. Nimoy was
Truly from another
Planet.
His portrayal of Mr. Spock
Was the quintessential
Vulcan.
A tongue in cheek
Article read when
I was too young to
Understand such
Humor seemed to
Confirm that the
Ears were real,
That Nimoy was
Alien.
I wondered why
This wasn’t bigger
News.
Goodbye Mr. Nimoy.
Thank you for
Making me a
Believer.
I always mess up “air kisses.” Read on:
He gave her a kiss,
A gentle touch of
Lips against cheek.
Very cosmopolitan.
Her attempt to
Reciprocate ended
In a sloppy smooch
Gone terribly wrong.
Her bright pink
Revlon left a smear
Starting near his nose
And ending at his ear.
Oh dear.
Peace, People!
Thunder closely sounds
Following bursts of lightning
Cats cower ‘neath beds.
Wild flashes of light
Stark reminders of power
Streaking earth to sky.
Imagine life as
A superstitious caveman
Scared witless by storm.
Storm sweeps vividly
Strafing swaths of timbered ground.
Skies burst brilliantly.
If diamonds are a girl’s best friend, then
why do I prefer the presence of a cat?
Maybe because diamonds do not purr when scratched behind their ears. They don’t stretch when waking from a long nap in a sun-filled corner.
Diamonds do not pounce on one’s chest first thing on a Sunday morning, nor do they paw gently at one’s nose as a way of saying, “get up lazy human and feed me!”
If diamonds are a girl’s best friend, then why haven’t they learned to keep me warm by crawling into my lap and slowly circling one, two, three times before settling into a cozy ball of fluff?
Diamonds cannot possibly be a girl’s best friend since they have yet to learn how best to chase a stuffed mouse or to bat around a ball of yarn.
Diamonds are amazingly incompetent at leaping on top of the refrigerator or at meowing for treats. Diamonds are totally unable to arch their backs or to leave cat hair on a favorite pair of black pants.
Diamonds have their place, I suppose, but I’d much rather have a cat.
Praying for Eyebrowz 