Cernay la Ville

May this heat sweeten fruit come harvest and leave the lettuces for shade.
The black-top is molten.
Mind wanders to a farm house, oak table set in blue china, sea salt in a tin can.
I steamed broccoli that night with dinner but only the middle son touched his portion.
Father was in a way and everyone looked down to stay out of it.
We played ping-pong in the tall grass. Two returns and the chase.
A vos marques, prets, partez.

More in a paper bag state, but this is new and pertinent.

Architects May Come

I am ground in a graphite tunnel leaving eraser shreds as breadcrumbs to find my way back home.

A little of this

I enjoyed this last week and had it read to me today for good measure.

I am sketching out a day to saunter near this, it may inspire a greener thumb or watered paintings. That day has nothing to do with the day I'm planning to visit this, though.

After weeks and week of learning to play this I'm now looking forward to playing that.

Parallel Lines

Twelve four" squares one" apart.
T square, walnut halves, lead pointer, blue painters tape.
Amnesiac, 'Little Green', Eli and Jerry.
My toes are cold and painted as I throw a silent fit.

On a Hike

The soles have worn to leather and on we walk into the vertigo of towering trees.
Thunder claps.
Dancing on, quickly stepping between logs and stones, my breath slows with you beside me singing.