Poem for her 879

Dear Readers,



Dinner in a Basket


The picnic basket was old
Been out to sea a few times
Even on a plane
That trip was cool
A plane ride
Some friend and his plane
Off we went
Over yonder way

The boat ride was on a Trawler
Nordic yacht kind
I'd liked their range
Off to see the world
Drew a few
This one was another friend's
So we took a short trip
Short for trips on a boat like this
He'd sailed around the world
A time or two
We when into cold waters
The basket too

This week it was restocking time
Not sure what all
We'd put in there
Yet we'd stock it well
Tea and cracker tins
Some drinks
Some of this and that
All ready for the next trip
To see the world

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 878

Dear Readers,


Card Table on the Pond



The card table floated
It was set up on a pond
Small pond in a planter bed

Looked like a lily pad
Then you noticed the cards
We had to be careful
Dealing them slow
No flying them

There were chairs set up
At the end of the planter
The legs were under the pond
It was an odd thing
Designed just so

I had the idea one day
So thought about the pond
Up high
Just inside the bed
Just above the feet
We had to stick under it all

Cards we got were wet dry
They said good for boats
Well if they float
These would work
We have yet to see
Being careful
It's the deal

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 877

Dear Readers,


Tango at Two am


The fireplace was aglow
Embers still
A little flame in the corner
I looked at her
She picked a log up
Handed it to me
I put it in just so

Seconds later
Flames many
Then I hit play again

The Jazz music was low
Just loud enough
To be heard by the kitchen
And into the bedroom
We danced some more

The fire died down
Then another log
Just so
Then
Music
Another album
Another hour passed by

Over here
Over there
Tango in a cabin
Just the two of us


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 876

Dear Readers,


Cups of tea



Twenty five cups of tea later
We still couldn't decide
Which color to paint the canvas first
We think it was the third day
Yet it might have only been
Since noon

The sun was shining in the windows
The art supplies were still neat
Stacked in all the places
The Murphy bed put up
I think
She might have had it still out
Over there behind a wall

The canvas whispered softly
Paint me
Paint me
Then one more kind of tea to try
Hot water
Sweet stuff
Hot cream
Some more heat

The paints came out
The canvas smiled
No notice that the paints were many
Just a smile
Painted on the canvas


Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.

Poem for her 875

Dear Readers,


Valley of the Moon


We were not in Chile
Yet we were very near by
Well sorta Kinda

The place was a valley
It was cold
We had a few bowls of Chili
The fire was warm
The small hut we had built
It was more just a ranger station
Yet we were the rangers
It was on land we owned
Way out there in the high mountains
Up near the tree line
We drove there
On roads we knew
Tracks really
Just two lanes
Grass grew on them
Most of the year

Up in the sticks we liked to say
Out yonder
Way out yonder
Families of ours bought the land
Prices cheap
Not high cost
Wild places
Where wolf and bear lived
No hunting
Posted to say none of that here
No logging either
Trees had tags on them
Paid to be kept long after we were gone
Kept for the times past ours

We liked this chili
Worked on the recipe
Had the fixings in our gear
In the big Jeep
She loved to drive it
Big Jeep
The one that could go under water
Stay there for a picnic
While water flowed over top

We were there to check on things
Make sure the door worked on the hut
Make sure the supplies were topped off
Left a few notes for others
Logged our stay
Made the trip in a long day of just road
The night we'd cuddle
By the fire
Then off the next day
Down out of the mountains again
Yet here
The moon
High in the sky
Quarter
Just flowing toward the sunset glow
Over the rim
It'd be dark dark soon
Then star gazing for a while

See the first rim star rising
Over yonder crest
Moon rock it was called
The tilted stone
Glassy up close
Ragged and fuzzy now
Soft glow of her bright eyes
I loved her eyes at night
Soft fire in them
Warmth at a touch

Chili she pointed
Eat was her thought
I was
Of her glow
I have no need of food
With her so near

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.