Summer Susans

August eyes are brown
winking in yellow bonnets –
flirtatious Susans.

(Image my own. Summer Susans first appeared on One Woman’s Quest II, August, 2019)

Priorities

Supper dishes abandoned,
we cruise the backroads,
destination: river’s edge

A muskrat creates ripples
distorting mirror images
disappears into murky unknown

A canoe glides by,
occupant a silhouette
in the golden sun’s descent

We linger in the warmth
of the fading glow, celebrating
summer’s gracious moments.

(Image my own)

Summer Love

Waves lap in rhythm with my heart
midnight sky bewitches, stars sing,
hand-in-hand our spirits soar
pulses dancing to the seduction
of love’s enchantment –

Tonight the ambiance possesses us
tonight boundaries have no hold
we are moon-crazed innocence
warmed by mysterious stirrings
sand shifting beneath naked soles.

(For Eugi’s Causerie Weekly challenge: bewitched. Image my own.)

A Convertible Summer

Summer of ’67
British invasion
Canada claiming 100 –
Dad arrives home
in a powder puff
blue convertible.

Back seat sisters
long hair flapping
bellowing along
with 8-track tunes:
Loving Spoonful
“Do you believe in magic?”

I, barely nine
idolizing a sister
sixteen – a model
with go-go boots
and hippie style

Cottaged at Sauble
muscle cars prowling
oiled bodies lounging
and all eyes lit
on sister, and I
wondering at the draw
made castles in the sand.

Surfing the waves
avoiding the baby
whose brash cries
and quick, chubby legs
keep Mom distracted,
I am observer of the life
Neil Diamond is promising:
“Girl, you’ll be a woman soon.”

Ah, to be 9, in summertime
few the cares, and ideas
like popcorn, burst and pop,
forgotten in each watery plunge
still content to be a child.

(A Convertible Summer first appeared here in June of 2018.  I submit this edited version for Eugi’s Causerie Weekly challenge:  summer.  Image my own.)

 

 

Cedar Waxwing

A spot of red
and dash of yellow
bandana masked eyes
how you transport me
to simpler times –
childhood days
when you and I
wiled away hours
hidden deep
beneath summer
canopies – maple,
beech and willow –
listened for whispers
on the wind,
searched for treasure
on rocky creek bottom.

Years since our paths
have crossed like this,
have you returned
as reminder –
your sweetness
a blessing, now
that I only linger
at woods’ edge?

No matter the reason,
I am content
that we meet again,
my friend of old.

(For Granny Shot It’s Bird of the Day.  Photo from personal collection.)

 

Rainstorm

Rain teases, trickles,
more sweat than shower
air thick and smothering
sits on my chest.

I exhale in puffs
willing chest to rise
begrudging this outing

Cardinal whistles
happy scales, while
somber sky squeezes
a single droplet
kisses my skin
and then explodes
pellet-like missiles
of water soaking

clothes cling
as a river traces
contours of face
body melting
into flow

and through it all
cardinal sings
a laughing melody.