POEN - Jet Lag

Slower
Slowly
Slowing
Eyelids
Puff up into pillows
And I am swimming
Through a Jell-O world
Groggily traipsing
Pushing through
Freely
Faintly
Falling
Like a plane
Slowing
Braking
Descending gently
From soft fluffy clouds
In an ever changing sky

POEM - Calder Abroad

The Bohemian couple
Sitting across from me
Waiting for the same red eye flight
Were having pleasant discussions
I noticed her shirt
Decorated by my favorite artist
During a lull I interupted
"So you like Calder?"
She said yes
Really more he did
He had been to the retrospective
It was in San Francisco last year
Had gotten her the shirt

I said that I had been to Chicago
And spent time with his stabile
I shared my photo
Then they discussed the Picasso
Also in Chicago
That was much maligned initially
But now a cherished treasure

They were returning
From time spent with friends
Out in the mountains
They spoke of easy days
An unhurried lifestyle
And the difficulty
Of adjusting back into
A set schedule again

I explained I was here for work
Which seemed a subject
They weren't ready to think about
So I shifted to sightseeing
And that earned a little more time
Until we drifted back
To the easy silence of strangers
Momentarily engaged
Then the moment passed
Into the humid jungle air
Like planes passing in the night

POEM - The Gritty Version

Growling engine
Huffs out diesel fumes
Mixing with ocean breezes
As we rock
Port to starboard
Out of the slip

The barely walking infant girl
In the princess dress
Decked out
With heavy black eyeliner
And a red beauty mark
Is too precious for words
And warms up
Half way across the bay
With fertive looks
Then joyous smiles
And a bright light
From her Cleopatra eyes

The leisurely walk
Found it way
Around the tourist traps
Beyond the onslaught
Of seashore vendors
Into the quaint ancient town
To the same high pressured sales
Just in brick and mortar
A little harder to escape

Though we did escape
To the colonial holdover
For a brief meal
Some needed hydration
To feel recharged
It became essential
As the day moved on
And the venue changed as well
To a grittier version
The one deeper in the city
Where the native driver
Told us to hide our wallets
And we walked among the locals
Down dark side streets
And into the sweets shop
For local flavor
Down deep in the city
On the weekend night
Dust gathering on my shoes
And the city settling
Into my expanding soul

POEM - That Which You Persist in Doing

The lady who is traveling
To the subcontinent
For the first time
Is tired
Always

I remember being there
The oppressing passage of minutes
Somehow flying against the clock
Garners the revenge of father time
At least the first time
Just a little gift
The old man making a point
Making sure you know
He isn't having it

But it gets easier
If you persist
And try again
A truce is available
The old timekeeper won't make it easy
But if you force his hand
He'll sign off on you
A secondary passport
The one that lets you get on local time
Almost immediately

So I keep doing it
And I don't look like death
Is sitting next to me
Not any more than I usually do
And I am allowed to get up
Function reasonably well
And I feel bad for the new ones
I still remember that feeling
And I counted those minutes
Tediously
But persist
And you count hours
Then days
Then weeks fly by
Like a jet plane
Carrying me home

POEM - Water Reflections

Sun rises calmly
Casting greyed light
Across the perfectly still surface
Of the backwater coastal pond
Smooth reflection
Of a menagerie of waterfowl
Even the few soaring denizens
Land cautiously
Cause only momentary ripples
That dissipate almost instantly
Wary of ruining the perfect surface
Peppered with figures
Caught between thoughts
Like a lake with Rorschach tests
Dotting the surface
Motionless

I put myself on the couch
Study each bifurcated ink blot
Playing each side
Of my therapy session
Wondering what I will see
And what would Freud or Jung say
When I look intently
Furrow my brow
Pause and the decide
I see birds
And their reflection
On very still water

But what I hear
Is the ocean rolling in
And it carries my heart
In every crashing wave

POEM - Fried Bananas at the Airport

Domestic terminal in Southern India
Always a little different
Like the mom and pop version
Of the friendly skies
And I am greeted by rows and rows
Of the good chairs
Softly padded
With arm rests
And the sense that
There are times
When a long time is spent
Waiting to be taken away

And surrounding this sea of relaxation
Are flourishings of commerce
Selling everything
From clothing to books
Purses to herbal remedies
A flurry of activity
At surprisingly reasonable rates

My traveling companion steps aside
To take care of some business
Meanwhile I shop
Imagine which dhoti
Will look the best
Admiring the crisp linen shirts
Making a mental shopping list

He returns with a question
"You ever had the fried bananas here?"
I reply in the negative
"C'mon. My treat."

And this is different
Than the corporate sterility
Of American airports
With escalated prices
For deflated quality
In contrast this is real cooking
This looks good
Feels right
We receive or treat
Grab a seat
And dig in
It is very good
It is just the right flavor
Like a mouthful of sweetened karma
Makes me prefer
The mom and pop approach
Can't wait to fly through again
Can't wait to eat fried bananas
Right in the middle of the airport
Hitting just the right spot

POEM - Mahindra Does His Best

It is in the way
Despite station
Or monotony
You see beauty
Find the joyous
Center your focus
On doing more
Even just a little
So there is found
A worthy effort
Admirable results

Mahindra loves his job
More than most people love anything
Each day he  rides to the top floor
Sure it is no coincidence
Spends every day making sure
He won't have to stop
On a less important floor

Mahindra cares deeply that you are happy
Notices your habits
How you left behind your room
Thinks to himself
This mister wants bathmats
In more than one place
This misses likes her clothes
Hung up just so
This sir seems most definitely
To need an extra firm pillow
So he doesn't have to pile anymore
Of those devastatingly soft ones
Spends the extra time
Goes the extra mile
Rings the bell to your room
When he notices your arrival
Just to see if you are happy
Make sure someone wishes you a good day
Gives you the biggest smile he can
And sends you on your way

Mahindra you may never know
How rich you are
How much these little things matter
How proud you make your parents
For doing your job
Better than is necessary
Sleep well tonight
Master of Housekeeping
Dream of the joys you impart
And may your muse grant you
Glorious visions in the night
Of new creatures to construct
From blanched white terry cloth

POEM - The Jungle Explodes

It never matters why
The celebration got started
I want to be there
If fireworks are involved

Maybe that is all it would take
To settle everyone's nerves
All the wars and fighting
Are just because there aren't enough days
That end with a fireworks show

I am finding out it is universal
The Chinese and Italians
Claim a birthright for the sport
But the glittering exploding lights
Are the adopted children of the entire world

Tonight I was distracted
By a steady thrumming report
A hollow pop again and again
Until I rolled over to the window
And sat for a moment
Looking over Kochi city at night
Waiting for revelation

Then it happened
Joyous fiery sprays
Of silver, blue, and gold
Making me glad I looked
Making light of noise and violence
Taming explosions of gunpowder
For frivolous merriment
Until with a rocketing comet
Shooting thrice higher than all the others
The sky exploded in sparks of green
Like the canopy of the jungle
Both dangerous and protective
Quickly dissipating
Just as the sonic boom
Crashed satisfyingly
Against my hotel window

POEM - White Elephant Gift in the Room

It couldn't be ignored
Sitting right there
Just demanding attention 
But I tried to 
Tried nonchalantly glancing 
In every other direction 
But there it was 
Always 

Maybe I had an aversion 
Based on the color 
This thing in the room 
Was teetering between 
Two distinct sayings 
The first about avoiding 
Something blatantly obvious 
The second about gifts 
That were inherently useless 
Both seemed equally served 
By a simple enough object 

The deal is I had declined housekeeping 
For a number of days 
So apparently a point was being made 
Letting me know 
By unavoidable gestures 
They would take care of me 
If I gave them a chance 
The extra few bottles of water 
The lovely wood bowl of bananas 
And right in the middle 
Of my freshly made bed 
A large white elephant 
Made of rolled up towels 
Somehow it was both sayings 
Miraculously married 
In one solitary object 
My white elephant gift 
Was in fact 
The elephant in the room 
Unavoidably useless 
Demanding discussion 
Finding simple joy 
In the serendipitous union 

POEM - Sunspot Sunrise

All I came to do was workout
Made a promise to myself
I would actually use the gym
While sacking out at the hotel

Found some good music
Tried out the various torture machines
Fascinated by the mechanics
Ingeniously arranged
In order to work a stunning variety
Of nicely diagrammed muscle groups
I tried to follow instructions
While not looking like a fool
Luckily it was mostly empty
And my ineptitude went un-mocked

After dismounting awkwardly
One of the goofier contraptions
The sunrise caught my eye
I've seen sunrises before
I know a good one when I see it
For this one in particular
The sun decided to creep slowly
Over the neighboring apartment tower
Doing the slow burn
A rusty orange sphere
Easily observed
Thanks to increased humidity
That morning residual fog
That makes things look like a 70s movie
Shot somewhere in the California desert
With slow melancholic music
Serenading the incremental rise

I decide to memorialize the scene
Went up to the window
Happily abandoning my workout
And the camera captured more
Got the sun and three reflections
Making the whole 70s movie thing
All the more complete
Just seeing it made me feel desperate
Like it was that scene in the film
After a hard night
When what has to be done becomes clear
And the protagonist awakes
Slightly hung over or just punch drunk
Pulls open the blinds
On the cheap hotel
And the slow rising sun
Reflects his hesitation
To start this particular day
And with a forward dropping of the head
A slumping of the shoulders
For just a moment
He then shakes off the past
Steels his nerves
And faces the sunspots
Grateful he knows what to do
Even if it is only for today

POEM - Saturday Bazaar

Like a field of wild flowers
The crowds pass by below
Observed from my perch
Leaning on the chrome railing
Not wanting to interfere
With the Saturday evening
Migratory ritual
Playing out in full view
The beautiful flowing robes
Sauntering with their girlfriends
Or their sisters and mothers
Lost in conversation
Just like the denim clad boys
Hanging with their brothers
From the same or other mothers
Waiting for the arrangement
Where they must become men
But tonight it is play and friendship
An arm on a shoulder
A clasp of the hands
Everyone takes a turn
Snapping a selfie
With big smiles and joy
The flow of colors sometimes interrupted
By the serpentine trail
Of the school children
Out for a late night field-trip
Following and chatting and staying together
Moving through the fields
Of gathering souls
It is Saturday at a mall
It is a festival and a bazaar
It is a friendly family of joy
Taking in the scene
From my perch here
On the clean chrome railing

POEM - Beans Over Troubled Waters

Checking in
While far away
I get the update
Josie is at work
Claire is babysitting
Vern is at the temple
Ezra is getting sent to the showers
And Max
Well he had a mini-breakdown
Feeling anxious
About the new job starting
Getting upset over little nothings
Here and there

I'm concerned
I like Max
He's a good guy

Linda tells me it is all better now
Got him settled
By filling his belly
With the best medicine
Some good old
Mason family comfort food
Taco Bell
Is there nothing that beans and cheese can't fix?

I laugh and smile
When I revisit this thought
Maybe Art Garfunkel would have been happier
If he just ate more Mexican food
Wouldn't have had to build
A bridge over troubled waters
Maybe instead
A coat over a tiny puddle
Sure it isn't as dramatic
But I did rewrite the lyrics
Just to show it could be done

When your down and out / 
Feeling blue /
Try some beans and cheese /  
To get you through-o-o-o-o-o!

POEM - Luxury Tin Can

It is like playing that one party game
The one like hide and seek
Except when you find them
You stay with them
Close together
Packed in tight
Waiting
Like fish in a can
Like sardines

It is like that
Only this one has a little more room
And there is dinner service
And movies on demand
But we have all found the same hiding place
And are staying put
Waiting to be found
Waiting for the door to open
For the hiding place to be located
By the right person
Who sets us free
For a moment
Until the next turn
When another hiding place is found
And we all pile in
Like sardines
In a luxury tin can

POEM - My Love She Cries

When we part
My love she makes the rain
Fall in heavy sheets
As if out of nowhere

It is her way
Of saying she will miss me
Of telling me
Not to go
And she will be a little sadder
While we are apart

My love controls the weather
And when I return
It will be sunshine
And cool breezes

It is her way of saying
Welcome home
See how good the day is
See it is perfect here
And I am happy
Now that you are returned

POEM - I Didn't Want to Love You

The year we met
I had been through some stuff
Been shuttled around
Left my home
Found another
And lost it
And I was damaged
Nervous to commit
Unsure how we would get along

You were different from the others
Warmer and more open
I'd been through cold relationships
But you never even made lukewarm
So I began to thaw
Let you into my life

But I never wanted to love you
I resisted it
Fought against it
Said I loved the colder times
The times when the sky
Never stopped crying
But my resistance evaporated
And the skies forgot how to cry

That doesn't mean it was easy
Yes you had heat
But also a dry humor
That took some getting used to
And some days
You were so hot
I felt I couldn't approach you
Had to find shelter
Let you cool off

But it happened
I fell in love
With a desert of all places
All dirt and desolation
And the sky on fire
At every Arizona sunset

POEM - Top-ing Off

The lurking black shape
Calls to me
From the upper reaches of my closet
Begging for attention

As if hugging my cranium
For so many hours
Has put some magic
In that old top hat
Found roosting
In haggard environs
The hold out shops
Living at the tail end
Of Fourth Avenue
In the weird world
Of the Old Pueblo

It calls to me
Maybe not from its own internal awareness
But from a representation
A memory of my own
It makes me feel at home
Like I am back there
In the rummage shops
And archaic bookstores
Embraced by the freaks
At home with the crazies
Safe among the punks and hippies

All of it fits
Right up there
Maybe the Mad Hatter should look
A little harder up
Might find his sanity
Hiding in his top hat
That's where I keep mine
Right next to the door mouse
An extra hot cup of tea
And a porcelain dishfull
Of only the best butter

POEM - Bless Me For I Have Sinned

It was a time
When we laughed
Ridiculously
It was that
Or anger

The car ride was long enough
That it inspired confession
From some of the reprobates
We claim as our children
And the effects were unexpected

Firstly we both realized
It wasn't us going crazy
It was willful disobedience
That made these things happen
Made us think the facts didn't add up
Though unsolved at the time
These revelations
Admissions of tresspasses
Straight up guilt-spill
Gave us
The parents
Vindication

Then it was a lifting
Of long carried burdens
That now
Years later
Could be laughed at
It must have been liberating
Because it seemed endless
Once the first one cracked
The rest broke the dam
Each clamoring
To dump their sins
Into the flood

All we could do was listen
Sit back and let it happen
Take down little mental notes
Start balancing the tally sheet
Making sure the retribution had occurred
And subconsciously planning
When any missed punishment
Would be best doled out

But laughing is what happened
We were all relieved
Especially them
The little dears
The little pointy-headed dears
The little never-un-grounded dears
Just keep talking, Slick
I'm keeping score
Just keep it coming
Keep it coming!

POEM - The Hiker Departs and Then Returns

Gratefully I did not die
Even perchance found
That it was a good experience
Though how could it not
You send a poet for a walk
In the horry wood
Beside a Walden-esque pond
And he will wax philosophical

The first five miles were fun
The second five
Only a bit uncomfortable
And just at the end
But those last two miles
Were worth the pain
As my youngest son and I
Went on ahead
And he talked
Almost ceaseless
About the interests
And thoughts
And experiences
Of his full eleven years

It was less inane
Than I thought it might be
As he expressed
His deep thoughts
Or ponderous ruminations
Freely

And today
For the rest of the day
I have his devotion
Professions of love
And a desire to stick around
Be close
And continue the conversation
And the hike wasn't too bad
Not too bad at all
As the ducks came in to land
Disturbing the glassy surface
Interupting our hiking talks

POEM - Very Camp

For loving camping
I hate camping
It is that basic eternal juxtaposition
Of theory versus application
And in theory
I love the mountains
And the outdoors
Clean air
Beautiful landscapes

In application it is not ideal
All previous statements hold true
But then you have to stay
Sleep in a tent
On the ground
In the cold
And the wet
Get up to pee
In the frigid dark
Steel your nerves
At every random rustling
So that you can void your bladder
Dive back in your bag
Quell the shivering
And get all of 10 of the recommended 40 winks

And then there is the gear
Sure all of us love REI
Lightweight colorful wonderland
So many great gadgets
All the latest must have accessories
Meant to make you salivate
And drain your bank account
Because one of these nifty innovations
Has to make this suck-fest tolerable
Only to arrive and spend hours
In ponderous confusion
About how to use
The infuriating contraption
You just had to have

Here's the untold truth
I will always go camping
Because there is that one time
When the stars align
And it is wonderful
And I sleep well
And you can't beat leaving the world back there
Back on its own
To ring and scream a busy ruckus
And all I have is near silence
A warm fire
Some s'mores
Good conversation
Flatulent freedom
And easy peaceful silences
Only broken by a random pop and sizzle
From the lapping tongues of fire
Dancing in a hypnotic trance

POEM - One-Sided Conversations

We came to say goodbye
Without the kids
Just a quick moment
Because it was late
And we were leaving early
But you were tired
Of one sided conversations
That were happening more and more

Dad stopped answering a long time ago
And it is no comfort any more
That you win every argument
Because you feel you lost
The argument that counted
The one about who was going to stay behind
Who could live without whom
Which one of you could stand
The most years being alone
Without giving into loneliness

He didn't even wait for your rebuttal
Just made the decision
Closed his eyes
And left you
To work it out

And you worked it out for a while
Even found friends
And then found good friends
But they got tired of arguing too
And got the last word in
Without ever letting you express your opinion

And it isn't any good
To tell the grand-babies
They just look at you
And smile
Their little clueless smiles
And those arguments are no fun
No one talks back
Gets your goat
Tells you to get over it
Where is the fun in that?

So you have one-sided conversations
While you make your way through the day
And the sound of thunder
Makes you think you heard Dad answer
And the breeze on the wind chimes
Sounds like Maryanne is at your door
And some of the grand-babies are growing up
And will soon start talking back

But not yet
So we stay a little longer
Make sure you are OK
Dispel the loneliness for a moment
While the storm picks up strength
And the thunder rumbles in the distance
Soon to be drowned out
By the wind chimes
As we say good bye

POEM - The Better Cook

My wife is the better cook
This is based on the overall scorecard
The competition plays out like this
I arrive
All flash and panache
With vague imagery
Of sensational dishes
Bouncing around my spastic brain

Linda arrives
Focused and informed
Has done her research
Made a list
Has a sensible restraint
And a complex palette

Mine is complex as well
In the way the band Yes is
All my ideas
All my flavors
All play lead
You will be overwhelmed
By the time I am done
And leave me in awe
You may also
Never come back

But she, the consummate master
Makes it right
Never thinking she will
Tempers her response
Peppers her influence gently
Like a lovely symphony
Each taste in harmony
Taking a turn
Playing their part
Bravo!

I eventually get it right
Sometimes even make a favorite
But rarely on the first attempt
I am the perpetual winner
Of the most improved ribbon
The accidental chef
For our residents
With more canine tastes
The wannabe
Living in the shadow
Of the humble master

POEM - Breakfast in the DF

The plaza called to me
Ready to abandon my flight
And stay a day or two more
I had found
In the vastness
Of Mexico City
Too much to leave behind
Without more moments collected

We had left late
From the hills of Toluca
And traffic in the DF
It is always there
But we had to eat
And Jose knew the place
The very best place
Believe me
And I did

There were errors in navigation
And I'm sure I didn't help
Felipe was trying
Jose was patiently insisting
He had been there
Really did know where we were
But a car full of guys
Is a car full of guys
And everyone has an opinion

We found a parking garage
Dropped a few extra pesos
To get a good spot
And walked out into the bustle
The air alive with mid morning activity
A block away found us
Inside the embrace
Of El Cardenal
And a few moments more
We were seated
Three floors up
In the ancient building
That sloped to the back
As if it was relaxing
For brunch as well

And then without asking
A server appeared
Lifted my cup
And filled it with the syrup of bliss
Hot cocoa
The Mexican way
The right way
Thick as melted butter
Bittersweet and spicy
With a taste of eons
Calling across jungles and mountains

I don't know how long I sat there
Eyes closed
Listening to the faint rustle
Of feathered headdress
Ruffled by ancient winds
But Jose called me to
"Good, eh?"
"Si! 

Es muy bueno, amigo!
Gracias! 

Gracias forever!"

It was so good

I nearly missed my plane

Again navigation errors

Again a car full of guys

Again I didn't really want to leave

One more abrazo for Jose

And a mad dash to the gate

Via con dios, DF

Mi corazon se quedo

!

POEM - Samosa Discovery

“You can always start with the samosas

If you want to try Indian food

They are familiar

Like a more bite-sized pasty”

I suggest

“What’s a pasty?”

Is the reply

With a screwed up expression

Quizzical and untrusting

“Oh, a pasty . . .

It’s like a knish”

Confusion

“Like a k-what?”

“Perhaps a Russian piroshky, comrade?”

Crickets

“Nope”

“You know, like a Mexican empanada

Or an Italian calzone?”

“Are those foods?

I ain’t never eaten none of that.

Maybe Indian food isn’t for me”

I try again

I want this to work

This person

Sitting across from me

They need a broadened horizon

Like no other

Then it comes to me

“They are like Pizza Rolls

A little different

But basically, like Pizza Rolls”

A brightness behind the eyes

“Ohh, I like Pizza Rolls

Why didn’t you just say that?”

And they take a bite

And bliss rolls across their face

At the savory discovery

Occurring at this very moment

And then my reward

“I think I like Indian food

Why didn’t we do this sooner?

Can I have some more . . .

What are they . . .

Samosas?

These might be better than Pizza Rolls!

Hearing those words

Is better than anything

Well, maybe not better than the mint chutney

But pretty darn close

POEM - Good Men

I am the product of good men
Both in family
And in friends
There have been many
To lend a hand
Guide my journey
Direct the rutter
To higher paths
Better pursuits
Loftier goals

And I owe these good men
A little recognition
Because they are those
That would never ask for it
And those as well
Whom the smallest notion
That they have done good
Makes them do more good
Again and again
Never asking
To be noticed
Or praised
Maybe even
Never thinking
Any good they ever did
Was ever noticed

This is the notice
Good men
You have done well
Made me better
Your joy is my joy
Your tears mine as well
Your absence a void
Your existence essential
Our time
Even when brief
Is why I even try
To be
A good man

POEM - Shaved Ice

After the surgery
Feeling less than human
Wanting only
To find something normal
Something like a treat
Instead of the forced regiment
Of carefully portioned foodstuffs
Of bland calculated nutrients
To ensure optimal results
A nightmare for a foodie
A horror movie
Shot in two tones of bland

A night on the town
Family in tow
Just running errands
Enjoying some normality
And for their enjoyment
We stopped for shaved ice
Trying to stave off
The relentless clinging summer
For a few cool moments
I was in line only to pay
When something caught my eye
A list of flavors
Sans the cursed sugar
That was currently atop
My system's no fly list
And the heavens parted
The angel chorus sang
As I added my order to the list
With a tangible level
Of eager anticipation

I was not disappointed
Only pleasure
No reprucutions
I joined in normal life
Added color
To my gastronomical pallette
My mood improved
My will to live restored

After the surgery
I found pleasure
In simple things
My family's love
A beautiful day
Fresh clean air
But maybe most importantly
I found the joy
In the blessed union
Of flaky frozen water
Awash in flavored bliss

POEM – Stubbing My Little Toe on a Sunny Morning

A pinch of daylight

Crashes into my eyelids

I have chosen

In my mind

To ignore it

A sliver of daylight

Joins the fray

The memo to my mind remains

But the lines of communication

Suffered a collapse

The rest of my body

Never got the memo

And are confused by the foggy repertoire

Trickling from the upper floors

And the general bobbing and weaving

Blurting of incoherent babbles

And they are left to ask

Why on earth

Did he fling Little Toe

Straight into the bed frame?!?!

A beacon of sunlight

Rams forcefully

Into my bloodshot optics

Bathing my wincing face

In unhelpful brightness

As I howl and scream

At the piercing throb

Manifesting from my smashed digit

Full light of day

Now fully awake

My toe, I'm sure, thinks me silly

To carry on so long

He has been here before

Spends his days 

Being trampled on

And a stubbing now and then

Breaks up the monotony

Besides

He has miles to go 

Before he sleeps

Miles more to go

POEM - Biting Time

Frantic frolic
A scattered gallop
Feline paws
On laminate floor
Tenuous traction
Then drop
To a spring loaded crouch

The racket keeps us
Landlord and lady
In a fitful rest
As the clock ticks 11
And the galloping
Continues
With a thump
And a purr
And a gutteral twitter
Little half meows
Like a game of Marco Polo
Amidst the furniture
"I'm here
     Come find me!"
Here a chirp
There a flutter
Thump thump
Bump bump
Wrestle
     And bite
          Call out to the night
We are the rowdy kings
Who prowl in rambunctious ways
We are the sunlight seekers
Who prefer to sleep in the day

POEM - Sharp

It is a Wednesday
She tells me it is Sunday dress
I reach for my white shirt
But don't make it
My hand floats left
Distracted
By the red and pink floral number
The one I save
For the right occasion

And I think
On Sunday I am calm
We are a family
We go for a drive
Through the country
Fields and forests
Singing songs
Talking and conversing
Just being ourselves

So I grab my Sunday shirt
The one covered
In a field of flowers
A conversation starter
That lets me be me
Especially with the tie
A blue and green jewel tone
Shining like a country stream
Through the ruddy field