By Ken Gosse
A Late Summer’s Billboard at Dusk
There’s promised relief dead ahead. Finally, stopping for bread! We’ll spend lots of dough, because, on the go, our car guzzles gas without lead. Another long, tiresome day. Before sunrise, we’re on our way. Each joyful summer vacation’s a bummer, but we’d rather leave home than stay. Red skies reflected in eyes. The billboard shows whatever lies past the road sign ahead— perhaps Twilight Zone’s dread? But passing means bladders’ demise. Pulled off the road just in time, the fuel gage acknowledges I’m just an idiot light who must stop for the night, although waking the kids is a crime.
Summerizing My Plans
Oh Summer, if I had I my way, I know that I’d retire, and then enjoy each lovely day without need to aspire the whole week long for Friday night, when casual attire would welcome Happy Hour’s delight to quench thirst’s week-long fire; for then I’d goodbye-kiss this place to seek my heart’s desire and wander quite obliviace through workweek’s fun’ral pyre.
Warm Ponderings on a Cold Rock
June’s Strawberry Moon will shine bright, as a prelude to Midsummer’s Night. Great poets so smitten by her have oft written of love in the warmth of her light.