Right on through the heart of plenty
Right back ’round without want of any
Right moon saunters swooned soon hearts of many
Leaning languid skin and saultry
Vagrant fires now winds are lofty
Lover’s kiss is moonlight salty
All this before now was midnight dreaming
Lesser vowels to practice screaming
Round the house and right on down.
The sun is creeping up the town.
Little eye lashes are barely beating.
Little mouth smiles are sluggly greeting.
Where’s the breakfast you should be making?!
Blankets warm with cotton feathers.
As soft as one could possibly remember.
But up. And out. “TO THE DAY!” we shout.
Places, places, wash your faces!
Seat belts, crayons, lost shoe chases!
Cradled carload to the races.
I’ll see you all, I’ll soon return…
As the sun sinks beneath this crust of earth.
Mother’s childs, swift and wild.
What’s your heart is my heart is our heart… so smile.
(Myself, Happy, and three of the little souls that I love.)
There’s something magical that happens… to me… when I’m in my garden.
Something exotic, erotic, entangling, esoteric…
I’d imagine it is most similar to the inebriation that blurred the eyes of the sailors as their Sirens sang.
I get swept away.
My heart smiles.
My thoughts drift to the hope and wishes of mother plants dropping their fruit.
And every thing is good.
The light is hot.
The earth is warm.
The water climbs it’s way through the veins of stems to find thirsty pockets in leaves.
Curious flights of butterflies land delicate on brightly bursting blooms.
I want nothing more than to always be… where magic happens… inside of me.