The sun rises through the eucalyptus,
Waits till I pay attention,
Then gently pours warmth on my shoulders,
Paints tiny rainbows on my lashes
To make me smile,
Then monster shadows with silly ears
To make me laugh.
He climbs a little higher,
to throw sparkles on silver hair,
And warm a dream or two in a pale blue sky.
A song bird starts warbling,
Insisting on two notes
As pink oleanders swing to its measure.
A jay squawks a warning
Somewhere up in the pine.
‘I waited for you’, the sun tells the dove
Who flew in on the breeze,
Enticed by pretty berries,
A smell of late Summer,
and a scent of sweetness.
‘You are delightful’ he whispers
to the bougainvillea still seducing bees
with her last blossoms.
The sun then sweeps across the bay,
Pours dusty greens and blues on the Maures,
Then gazes at the Med in a dream of her own,
Drawing lines and curls in pale shades of cloud.
‘But you my dear’, he says smoothing
Some white satin ripples with
a light touch, ‘I simply adore’.
And she flashes her bluest smile.
Thank you. I am glad you like them.
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Thank you . As always, you are quite generous.
Oh my. An ending to make you blush.
Took the words out of my mouth!
You too John?
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Hmmm. me thinks I missed something in translation…
Because, well, if you’re blushing, then ….
I’m afraid to say, your Sol is shifting his focus, peeking down here, seeing what has changed through the winter that wasn’t a winter… again.
He has to.The Med is hiding behind clouds, so where is he gonna go?
So you’re not quite ready for summer aye?
Have no option… It never really left. That’s five years in a row now.
What? Your climate is changing?
Drastically. No winter to speak of, and we’ve had precious little rain for the entire year, which is really, really odd for this patch of Brazil.
Climate is changing everywhere but in DC where facts only interfere with and spoil the spin of lobbies whose deep pockets lead us all to perdition.
Grrr. Lemmings ‘r us.
I had to cheer the representative fro little, tiny Fiji some years ago. At a climate change conference he lost his cool and stood up, shouting at the American delegation, to paraphrase: “We like you, your country has done much, but if you’re not going to lead, then kindly stand aside and get out of our way…”
It breaks my heart, you know?
I think it breaks everyone’s hearts…. Except, of course, for the filthy likes of the Koch brothers.
Le Soleil, La Med, ta poesie.
Mais c’est vraiment la Med qui fait le tout.
Thanks Suze! 🙂
Ah, the sun is so kind, gentle, and loving…., until she retreats on her winter journey so far from us that only her luminescence, but not her warmth reaches us. Must enjoy while we can.
The only thing about that 1st picture is that the table only has one cup there, Emm…, where is mine??? 🙂 🙂 🙂
Your cup is just off camera Paul!
Yes, the sunshine must be enjoyed and his warmth ( to me it’s masculine energy) is always a most precious source of comfort.
The sun might be a bit of a flirt, but he always comes back to her, doesn’t he?
It seems that way, doesn’t it?
Your poem can turn a day into a nice dream with a delightful ending.
Thank you. It’s just like the ditty in a way: ‘…life is but a dream’. So I dream on as I float by.
Absolutely lovely. I like the picture too.