are we there yet?

the world spread out before us:  

overflowing 

in lush, sumptuous trees 

of needled sprigs amongst the leaves:

apple umber splashes  

in the flittering green 

tossed salad sea

as we rolled merrily

along the licorice ribbon road 

in sunny citrus wisps 

and spicy gusts, 

from the open car windows,

and chatted, with great expectations,  

about what we had packed 

in the picnic basket 

that sat on the back seat 

in tantalizing wafts of delectable aromas

as we sped on – appetites galloping –  

to the park.

 

photo:  Picnic Basket – W. Bourke

 

© 2013 Wendy Bourke

the morning after that night before

the night before,

heat lightening lit up the sky -

beautiful -

 

in ethereal bursts of blinking, far off, mountain scapes -  

there - and then . . . 

not there.

wondrous and profoundly moving,  

though, I couldn’t put into words 

the reason why:

it conferred a lovely peace,  

and I slept like a child - in the soothing astral hush.

when I awoke: 
I was filled with a lightness of heart -

and, having assured myself,  
that the ranges were still solidly plunked 
where I had last seen them plunked 
in the phantasmagoric night

I set off, at once,  
in search of earth and trees and sky 
to wander for a bit

in the cheery green and sunshine  
of a good morning

where all troubles have been transcended –  
and are . . . nothing.

photo:  Deer Lake Park Pond – W. Bourke
 
© 2013 Wendy Bourke

campanula get mee in the swelter

the day snoozed in lackadaisical flutters

as the heat beat down on our droopy

fan-filled apartment.

I heard him come through the door

(home from the grocery store)

and “California Girls” commenced swinging

from the kitchen radio.

he began to bump-bump-bump-bump-bing to the music

(as he sometimes does, when he’s in a good mood

and not about to let a lack of lyrics

get in the way of a rousing sing-song).

the rattle of drawers and dishes in motion

confirmed:  he was up to something in there

and, true enough, he had put together

a little lunch of deli salads and cold cuts.

in the middle of the table

he’d placed a whimsical pot of purple flowers

that burst like a cool, carefree 
giggle in the swelter.

I read the marker aloud:  campanula get mee . . . 
and smiled.

note:  Campanula Get Mee is a rather carefree perennial that can grow in full sun or partial shade.

photo:   Campanula Get Mee - W. Bourke

© 2013 Wendy Bourke