I have no idea

where my muse retreated to;

perhaps she will return soon?

~

Even muses need

a rest. Until she returns,

carry  on and do you best.

So what did you learn

from your sojourn in the sun

that will help on rainy days?

~

The sun always shines;

even when occluded by

moons, clouds, or monstrous egos.

As the sun descends

upon vacation’s glory,

how do we prepare?

~

No preparation

is needed. Just revert to

quivering lips and pulling hair.

What’s the best way to

handle the darkness hiding

in the cellars of our hearts?

~

Open the bottles

aging and cooling therein

and release their warming glow.

Some people, it seems,

have a style all their own

and, sometimes, it’s overblown.

~

Small hands and ruffled

feathers – signature style

of the overblown.

A true compass does

not conflate; rather, it

differentiates.

~

When one lives without

limits or bounds, it can be 

a chore to compass restraint.

Gators bide their time,

patiently basking in sun,

waiting for the feast to come.

~

They’ve grown impatient,

or so it seems, and bearing

torches walk our streets.

Looking out over

the ocean, I give thanks for

the vistas you’ve shared with me.

~

And I thank you for

meeting children raised as kin

by you and your dear old friend.

Hours on the road

bound for some distant vista,

and the sojourn comes up short…

~

How frustrating it

is when fruits of our seeking

fail to satisfy.

When hate comes knocking

how can we turn it away

without locking heart’s door?

~ 

If we ignore them,

sending only the police,

what will they have gained?