This, the Life

Last year there were big full moons (all summer

from the back deck); August

was no exception. We began a cycle that

voyeurs, vagrants and tomato aficionados

missed out on.  Guests

filled our house with odors of sizzling fish

frying in the pan, saffron and rosemary, yellow

corn with melted butter between our teeth

oozed down our chins. Drinks mixed in

tinkling glasses. Summer ended with a sigh and we rolled

into autumn with untypical fears of the future, questions

of what might come of us. Us. There

was uncertainty and not a lot of rain; we could never

locate a damn umbrella.

Winter

sunk her uncaring teeth into our ankles and

we were uprooted, tossed over like so many

unwanted used women, skirts in the air, grasping

for whatever we could hold onto, slipping away, greased

by old gripes about things that no longer

mattered. Spring was an illusion; filled with cigarette smoke,

bad breath and messy hair.  The trap

that turned into summer

was nothing like what we expected; sunshine

eluded us, not one day at the lake… for a walk

or a sleepy blanket spread out on the lawn, corners

all bunched and sandals lost in the disarray. We

wouldn’t have cared but our spirits were wounded, like

bird wings after an unnatural beating. This year

taught

we can put up with noises in the night, men

in bad shirts who give us a fright, not

knowing where the money went and giving in to

suitcase-dreams and ships that never reach the

shore. August

came and went twice while we waited for friends

to make a new acquaintance. We

waited for things to change. We waited for a miracle.

Thanks for reading........