Synesthetic Sunday

396 25 4
                                    

Joe says it's spitting and won't eat al fresco with mesitting on a raincoat flungover a wet chair;

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Joe says it's spitting and won't eat
al fresco with me
sitting on a raincoat flung
over a wet chair;

but I'm glad to,
for the savors of the eye with the palate:

rain-silvered grasses, drops lodged
before the curve of their 'coaster falls,

bright dyes of dandelions on their tufted
scumble brushes, the same as stained
my daughter's hand yesterday
preparing dandelion wine with her mother,

and that utterly OTT, twee
confection-box-lavish display
which is emerging apple blossom,
(the white of the pear in background
now thinning significantly)
epitome of nature's 'commercial art'
flogging itself to the doting bees,
that's the wheeze,
for the production of little green apples.

Just when the last of brunch is scooped
the blackbird begins his afternoon concert;
the notes flow down-throat
with brown coffee
twinkling within this esophagus;
they dance about the 'raspberries and cream'
of the apple blossom,
                                           dislodge
silver drops from weighed grass-blades -
plummet to green,
                                      synesthetic seas.

..........

Joe is one of my sons.
The title 'Synesthetic Sunday' was inspired by Dr Seuss' fun book 'Whacky Wednesday'.

The Singing SeasonWhere stories live. Discover now