peaches and ice water

relief

fell in trickles -

 

like a soft cool shower,  

at the close 

of a sweltering day:

the pounding sun blasts  

melting, at last, 

into peaches and ice water 

shimmers

that tickled - silent giggles -  

in the sweet, quenching afterglow 

of everything’s-going-to-be-alright

that – for a time –

 

lit the moments. 

note:  whether relief comes in the form of relief from physical discomfort or pain or mental apprehension or anguish - when relief comes, it seems to me, it leaves a light-hearted, refreshing afterglow (at least for a while).

photo:  Peaches and Ice Water – W. Bourke 

© 2013 Wendy Bourke

Rocky Point Park

but for 

the walk to Rocky Point Park

many days  

would, probably, roll out 

in perfunctory sameness.

inertia waits, with time,  

for when the freedom, 

of not having anything particular to do -

losses its joie to vivre.

 

and so, I find pleasant purpose  

in the mosey stroll to my favorite bench.

and once there,  

seated in pine breezes

amongst fellow ancients  

and mothers and babies

and fragrant green grass and leaves  

and book pages -

the quiet kindles  

like golden windows 

in the dark.

especially:

if the chapter  

is at a good part

or I’ve remembered to bring  

a piece of fruit

or a stranger passes by  

and nods in warm crinkles . . .

and I am carefree. 

photo:  Rocky Point Park Benches – W. Bourke 

© 2013 Wendy Bourke

small talk

I had landed there,

contrary to my hunch

that the affair

would be a bunch

of people I don’t know

gassing on and on about

not particularly much, at all,

in brilliant bursts

of repartee –

and so, it came

as no surprise to me,

when I found myself

adrift, in a sea

of cheese platters

and clatters of mystery appetizers

staring down in rapt intensity

at a mountain of melon balls . . .

mercifully:

the obligatory trays

of white wine filled glasses passed

amongst the captive guests

with military punctuality

until – at last –

I seized on inspiration,

to lend my voice to the escalating din

that bounced blustering around me,

off of the buzzing walls

by pointing out, astutely:

"Melon balls".

photo:  White Wine Night Out – W. Bourke 

© 2013 Wendy Bourke