Surreal Stories, Very Tall Tales
Darkness rain falling
Daisy petals sweet chanting
He loves not loves me?
Sunrise raindrops cease
Daisy’s center sunshine song
Loves me bright yellow
Snowfall white velvet
Paperwhites’ leaning forlorn
Love as confusion
Periwinkle peeking
Renewal vernal waking
Passion evergreen
Steadfast love certain
In ultramarine satin
Tango daring red
Merlot warmth comfort
Onyx carnelian and pearls
Evenings slow dancing
Ivory
Old lace abandoned
Iced champagne
Wire hanger
Unworn dust shapeless
Ring and dress
Blackberries
Rooted deep passage
Pathway blocked
No new love
Forever a wait
Eternal
Gown ghostly
Bach flute concerto
Rise full moon
Rose without acanth
Of a love’s softness unpierced
But secret dangers
Red stilettos pair
On backstreet cobblestones click
Meeting of lovers
Wisteria parts
Opened floral curtain door
Set corner table
Absinthe awaits kiss
Beware its false possession
Trickster cocktail strong
Whispers I love you
But warnings of winds and cold
Raven sees stirring
Tuxedoed lover
Danger a deceitful tale
Fool’s gold diamond set
Not logical love
Retrieved a crumpled parchment
Wrinkles pressed unfold
Flaws firm accepted
But corvid’s warning repeat
Voice of thorn careless
Caution danger here
A past’s thistle sting secret
Hidden betrayal
Maddening disguise
Triangles befuddle
Isoceles hex
To hexagon spell
Indiscretions’ clumsy spills
Hurricane feelings
————–
Damselfly beauty
Blue of sky water lover
Alight on lily
Crow’s raucous canto
Her corral fence catwalk strut
To yard brings the boys
Reading summertime
Blue silk Bach on terrace played
Robins rendezvous
Of an afternoon
Wind’s prestidigitation
Shine silver maple
Cecile practices flute.
Keys, gently pressed –
Pink snapdragons
Sprout.
Sonata breathes
Fire
Violin’s bow piques
Zinnias
Growth blankets orchestral
Floor.
And roses, Sterling
Beauty.
Joy in housework.
Bouncing washing machine
Yields
Tulips, yellow.
Hyacinth, blue.
Wardrobe dusted-
Who knew that polish multiplies
Dandelions?
For wine.
And greens, sauteed.
Tiny white blossoms of Irish
Moss
When cursive words,
Written?
Fountain pen scratches.
Miniature poppies?
No, lichen.
Desk drawers opened.
Ranunculus revealed.
Red velvet Rachmaninoff.
Orchestra paints daisies in
Watercolor,
Wisteria, oil on
Canvas.
Clouds release mist,
And moonflower,
Soft.
Vintage maps, unfolded
No cities.
Only geraniums,
Red and white
Follow roads and rivers made of
Pine cones, phlox, lavender.
Seas of lilies, lotus, and lace.
GPS says, destination reached –
One millionth fir on your
Left.
Never get lost –
One pink rose
Falling water’s sound
Sequoias
Afternoon
Shade’s respite advance
Scent drunk in
Tale whispered
Telling happiness
Undisguised
Removed shoes
Cool water pleasure
Laughter splash
Lavender
Swim velvet sunset
Together
What illuminates?
A chickadee’s song, a crow’s call, on the margins of an early summer morning.
A window box full of red and white petunias, and hummingbirds buzzing, sipping on the periphery of a kitchen window – A July or January day, depending, of course, on one’s hemispheric environs.
The gift of a hug around the circumference of a big maple tree’s trunk on a scarlet autumn day –
The hug returned even more brightly illumines.
To see a loved dog on a walk with their dedicated human on a rainy spring day. Depending on how hard the rain, the human might not be smiling, but the pup almost surely is.
A bumblebee alight on the radius of a little yellow lion’s mane –
Bee working their summer afternoon shift.
Rain dancing softly on a roof to Handel’s Water Music.
A good book,
A cat’s contented purr.
Brilliant paintings in the margins of our stories,
All.
A search for one perfect pearl,
Pilfered.
Under the bed? No. Perhaps a jumping spider’s
Prize? No.
Buried like a squirrel’s acorn behind the Gardener’s shed? Also,
No!
Finally found.
Dust bunnied, cobwebbed. Under a ghost vanity long ago forgotten.
Lovingly polished.
Added to a small bowl of smooth, burnished copper.. with one beautiful blood orange,
Sliced.
Beside the bowl.. a summer ripe, juicy plum.
A love note, penned on the palest blue
Parchment –
Also, a little gold box, containing two salted caramel truffles.
A still life painting?
A scene set for a vintage film?
No.
A love potion for two. A white tie tuxedo.
A flowing red silk gown.
Scent of gardenias, illuminating a poem –
Pleasure at midnight, under whispering pines and oaks.
Orion’s bow, abandoned. A violin, chosen.
A Prague waltz, played.
Ecstasy, reached.
House spider tucks in.
Clean laundry, warmth,
Juicy fly dreams –
Setting up house
It’s all about location –
Window, door, wall,
Or ceiling.
I, also, sleep.
I dream.
My web needs work.
My silks, purchased.
Her silks trap meals;
Mine, comfort, beauty.
When Spider wakes, she asks to weave a set
Of curtains with her silk.
I can sketch flowers for your windows, says
Spider.
She works.
She works days and nights.
I marvel.
Roses, dahlias, periwinkle, hyacinth –
A set of curtains, a canopy for my
Bed…
She is exhausted, proud. She beams.
I want to embrace her.
This wonder of eyes, silk, and friendship
I let her rest in my
Sweaters.
I hear her tiny heat beat. Her softest
Breathing
She sleeps. She dreams.
I sleep. I dream.
Softness. Comfort.
Woman with pen
And lined notebook.
Maybe I’m that woman.
So far, only the lines –
No words. Pen waits for
Movement.
Tree frog, impatient.
Lands in its midst.
He says.. I. I am your story. Me. Me and the trees,
The beetles. The flies. And this paper, once part of
A tree. Maybe a fir, perhaps a pine.
Write us, he says.
Me, the birds, and see the forest for the trees.
Go ahead. Write me.
Write my singing with your words.
Take your words to the forest.
Read them aloud.
Sing them to the firs!
Rebellious Hazelnuts 