Wednesday, July 1, 2015

A Wednesday Evening

Somewhere hidden between those trees
By the singing creek
Flirting with endless possibilities
And unknowing wildflowers
As John reminds me to Let It Be
In earnest melancholy
Between tender barbecued broccoli
And gut-warming pupusas
I hear her voice in the depths of violin valleys
I jerk from the splashes from doggy dips
While smelling the fruit of garlic
I squat to get a better look
At the four-legged dear Jupiterite
Munching its dinner warily
And I softly sigh to myself
Is it a Wednesday evening already?

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