three

1
He has seen more than I
His height betrays his age
He has watched from his steady home
The ever changing parade of fashions
On this outdoor runway.
He has seen the timid, soft-feathered duckling
become the sleek, assertive duck.
He watched as lovers kissed
and others fought, spouting words of hate.
He has taken part in picnics
and observed teenagers tasting their first drink,
puffing their first cigarette.
Oh, the stories he could tell.
But no one will ever hear.
His is a life of silence,
A life of beauty and strength,
But quiet.
The only sound,
The sigh of a breeze
passing through his leaves.

2
Perfection exists:
in a cold glass of Pimms,
a view of the river,
the dome of St. Pauls.
Making you feel
a little closer to heaven;
the eternal joy of a life enjoyed.
Can I sit here forever
in this moment of bliss,
where I taste the divine?
It blows over me
like a welcome breeze
on a scorching day.

3
Just because I should know better
doesn't mean I do.
I grow tired of the constant battle
between my head and my heart.
I want to dream big
but an exposed heart
is often left raw.
But one sheletered,
is that better?
The possibility of pain is small,
but the chance of joy even smaller.
Shall I take the gamble,
toss the dice,
lay my cards on the table,
or maintain my poker face?
Cause this is an all or nothing situation.
Not sure if I can give it all,
not willing to end up with nothing.

A Park in London on the 4th of July

Ah, the irony. I am in England on the day we Americans celebrate our independence from England. But it was a beautiful day and I spent it in a park with friends. Started at the best farmer's market ever, Broadway Market in East London. Mushroom and cheese sandwich, Vietnamese coffee, and salted caramel Violet cupcake (apparently Stella McCartney, Keira Knightley, and Jamie Oliver are fans). Seriously delicious. Then Mark brought Cara and I red wine. The Europeans get it right here. Good food, wine, and friends, outside on a gorgeous day. There was one 4th of July party going on: American flag hanging, BBQ, "American" attire (consisting of cowboy hats and boots and Red Sox and Mets Tshirts). And they were British. Funny. And some of my musings from the day:

Burst of green overhead
A mosaic of blankets laid every which way
Clouds of gray smoke pouring from BBQs
Tall cans of cold beer
A melting pot of people
Celebrating independence?
Probably not
Far too many British accents for that.
But perhaps freedom.
Freedom from clouds and rain
From work and everyday mundane
A celebration of sun and Saturday and summer
So happy fourth of July
from this American girl
sitting on a London plot of land.

***

Are people more in love in the summer
or does the warmth and sun
force couples out of hiding?
Winter is all wine and fireplaces and
cuddling under old quilts.
In the winter, love is private.
But once the golden rays of sun
streak the brilliant blue skies
People are awakened
from their lovers' hibernation.
Summer, that time of little clothing,
melting ice creams,
the carefree "school's out" feeling,
sweat dripping down the body's covered valleys,
the seductive pull of the ocean, the pool.
And instead of a cuddle under a quilt,
a cuddle on a quilt
surrounded by trees
beckoning lovers to come
lay among them.