Buttercups


‘Do you love butter?’ She muses idly,
leaning lazily over in the grass
towards the little yellow flowers.
She picks the perfect bloom
reaches forward to where he rests
holding the dainty cup under his chin.
He sighs, but does not open his eyes
smiling at her childlike delight.
She watches as his stubble shadow
glows golden in reflection of her bloom.
Then brushes a pollen kiss against his lips
whispering the bare breeze into his ears
‘make love to me in this meadow please.’
Amid the constant chatter of crying birds
beneath a steady drone of working bees
warmed by the naked summer sunshine
A flotilla of butterflies set sail and rise.

*A poem dedicated to my darling husband Neil on the 4th anniversary of our marriage, on Midsummer’s day, saying it with flowers*

**picture is kindly shared courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/dgeezer/ with thanks

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Dark Cherries

Deep luscious cherry flesh
compliments the smooth
yet bitter cut of darkness
biting down to the stone
juices flowing freely now
running over glistening lips
taste explosion on the tongue
appreciatively licking fingertips
divine indulgence touched
a pleasure never to be rushed
reaching inwards once more
pops another cherry passed
the melting cacao kisses.

In the path of the storm

I feel it now
the beast like presence
that has been toying with us.
The time for playing has passed
tearing silt laden waters to foaming cappuccino
sucking down low cloud to suffocate the islands
pulling relentlessly at heavy clothed bushes.
Gusts grabbing at my tin can
rock my seat in menace
sun still shining as if not wishing
to miss this performance.
A lone gull tilts carefully
assessing the implication
keeping low and tight to the cliff face.
I feel its draw and follow
for if I lift mine to the air
as temptation implores
I will be at their mercy
buffeted, twisted and tossed
smashed against these cliffs
that took so long to climb.