on the front porch -
rest my weary bones -
raptured by the
grape vines
salvia and
yarrow -
hoping for
tomorrow
as a mighty wind
whips up
stirring all the
dust
up
and I'll have to
go
in
as the pompass sways
and johnny jump-ups jump
dancing
all around
and the gloriosa
shivers
among strategically placed
whispering trees
and I hate the wind
worse than anything -
forcing me
to re-negotiate
my position -
all comfy and serene -
surrounded by
every
green
I could possibly manage
to plant
in my front yard
so far
and suddenly
the grit
is in my eyes and teeth
and hair
and paper flies
beneath my
pen
and I must retreat
against my wish
but
I take a backward
glance
as I gather up the makings
of a few minutes
peace
and head into the
interior
of sanctuary
to finish
this piece . . .
Domestic Violet
Semper Vi ~
Survivor . . . from the VORTEX
