The Sanctuary
The wind grows cold, branches turning bare sending yellow leaves down in silent arcs.
Raindrops tap a steady rhythm on the window pane while inside, the world stays safe and still.The espresso machine hums its lazy tune and spiced cider flows in deep gold waves.
I hold the heavy ceramic cup, absorbing the heat watching steam rise in soft, slow curls as cinnamon and roasted beans sweeten the air. Every sip tastes like a quiet afternoon a brief pause while daylight fades into an early night.
The ceramic mug clicks against the wood, empty I push past the heavy glass door breaking the spell of cinnamon and steam.
The street greets me with a sharp, gray slap—traffic roaring, the wind pulling at my collar.
My shoulders tense under the weight of what waits next stepping back into the noise and the heavy, crowded day, but for a few blocks more the ghost of warm cider stays on my tongue ,a small, hidden shield against the frost.
Fall is here, its aroma stays upon my lips, warm soft fall sweater wrapped snuggly around my neck, untill tomorrow where my Sanctuary will once again beckon me
You have come mightily upon my brows,
Yet blessing my folly when I had cried nude and
Watery,
My vagitus loud with the frenetic timbre of wartime
You have swept through the corridors of
Silhouetted stalks, fanning lean, vertical leaves that shield
The nakedness of the African seasons —perched
And soggy,
And at waking time, when November bares its
Thunder-whetted fangs with the ruthlessness of a Puff adder.
It is cold and skin-whitening.
Streaks of flaking, dancing rods descend on femurs un-pumiced.
Dehydrated throats accompany ancestral hymns on the
Humming bees’ melody, stifling the courage of the Tchagra.
Drab, and cracking the serrated softness of heels and
Stale, moss-ridden kernels, the waves of the storm,
Blinding, besiege our common sempervirence,
Long lost among the blurred firmamental gaze
And straw-gold material upon this prostituted earth.
Snuggly warmth comes by the power of woodsmoke
When dawn, shy from the raillery of the rising sun,
Hastens to the coronation of sacred rain beyond
Our limits —a pomp of relegated and flustered seasons.
kitty is pretty
soft silky fur and snuggly . . .
gold eyes reach my soul
I have an insatiable longing for home.
How do I find it again?
What am I even missing?
These liminal memories haunt me.
Night after night, I'm transported back;
Back to where I had so much pain and joy.
Reason tells me that to go back would hurt more.
These memories are not good ones.
But they draw me in,
Wrapping me in a warm embrace,
So sleepy and snuggly
That I don't realize I'm suffocating.
To go back where I was
Means I cannot return.
So I cannot go back,
Lest I fall asleep in the sauna.
"I walk this lonely and gray maze absence of noise for days,
till only my name be known." Quote by poet
Beagle, my small, sweet, faithful, warmhearted,
Regal, Harrier hunting hound girl puppy,
Loves to sleep on my armchair.
Fifth of her litter. She stares, with sun sparkling hazel eagle eyes,
Short, soft white, with patches of brown and black hair.
Her brown ears down like pendulums in the air
That swing back and forth when she runs.
Stands proudly with her head straight up and alert.
Her black nose never fails her;
It wiggles at the scent of quail.
She rumps inside and outside
With bumblebee boundless, curious, playful energy.
Tail high, cheerful and outgoing,
Happy and very yappy at times.
She’s humorous when her toy is her tail
An affair she chases over and over again
In a circle, having fun when she is excited.
Her bed is my bed in quiet, hush puppy, snuggly comfort.
love's
roost ~ coos woo, snuggly gloves ~
doves
I dink until I’m drunk
I drink until I’m drumpt out
I dreamt that I was punked
But shonly da lonely
Shunderstands my schlump
Sheepin snuggly next to a dumpster
Dreamin it must be your rump
But when I awoke
To my shutter-bug-eyed surprise
It was some awfully smelly bloke
Homeless guy!
Mighty Mercury
Alert then aloof, snuggly warm then colder
His rangy legs spring to hitch a ride on our shoulder
Lifting our hearts to elation
He’s our portable vacation
We cherish Mercury more each day we grow older
Cold is the white crystalline night
As the snowflakes gently fall
A pristine sight by candlelight
Casting shadows on the wall
Snuggly in bed my weary head
Begins drifting off to sleep
Dreams of my red toboggan sled
Flying over snows so deep
Puzzling Relationship
Our edges seem so similar
Meant to fit, snuggly together
The tongue of your dry humor
Locks into the Grove of my clever wit
Forming attachments in every aspect of our lives
An image appears of our happy union
Then, as we filled in more and more,
Layer upon layer,
I found pieces that did not fit just so.
I rearranged my shape,
Just a bit, that's okay...
To force the connection that began so easily.
Pull this bit in, push this and fold here,
Until a ***** image forms
It is the appearance of "Us", but off.
Until, we no longer recognize ourselves.
Is it possible to unravel this mess?
Once we tear the pieces apart
Will they ever regain their original shape?
My pieces, unlocked from yours, seem deformed,
Misshapen, wonky.
Who is this Picasso I see in the mirror?
Walls sadly look at me
As I wait until everyone's asleep
The room has its all ears on me
As I cry myself to sleep
Pillow silently absorbs the tears
That run down my face
Fighting all those besetting fears
That occupy all my space
My snuggly blanket tries to comfort me
But I use it instead to blot my tears off
My little fan sings cool breeze for me
While my bed helps me laugh the pain off
Walls. Room. Pillow. Blanket. Fan. Bed.
Walls. Room. Pillow. Blanket. Fan. Bed.
Some things.
Some things.
Of feet crinkles crispy snaps with your mate,
as the ebbing tides that breaths winter's fate.
Echoes summons a dusty field in white,
closets freed skis and sleds still not quite right.
Few sunflowers escort its mentored sun,
facing their eastward repose position.
Brisk breeze tails a crafted shawl snuggly wrapped,
home, hot cider, lit fire, read book is lapped.
A forested cabin that's well-engaged
coast reservedly entertained assuage
A prominence forestalls in burgundy,
copper, and blonde. Snowflakes smooch tenderly
the fallen perianths. Forgivingly
melts to a smooth touch that norms Autumn's eve.
Sunny days are greater days!
Days of absolute peace and kind gestures,
Emanating from the soul within.
Sunny days are brighter days!
Snuggly warmth for the burdened mind,
Relieving the spirit from consternation and pain.
Sunny days are friendlier days!
Lofty gifts from the beaming sun,
Shining its rays on all earth’s entities.
I am enjoying a slumbering Ginger cat said to pumpkin vine.
A beautiful day it is to sleep of my jug of catnip wine.
Pumpkin vine understood and gave Ginger cat a snuggly spot.
On a warm October day when some other pumpkins did rot.
Why do you keep looking wonderful? Asked another pumpkin, Lee.
I think it is because I have become a cat sleeping berth as you can see.
How can I get that gig? Asked Lee. I want to stay fresh longer too.
Pumpkin vine did not know, but Lee became a sleeper so now there are two.
I am enjoying a slumbering Ginger cat said to pumpkin vine.
A beautiful day it is to sleep of my jug of catnip wine.
Pumpkin vine understood and gave Ginger cat a snuggly spot.
On a warm October day when some other pumpkins did rot.
Why do you keep looking wonderful? Asked another pumpkin, Lee.
I think it is because I have become a cat sleeping berth as you can see.
How can I get that gig? Asked Lee. I want to stay fresh longer too.
Pumpkin vine did not know, but Lee became a sleeper so now there are two.
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