You call me cloud, so of me speak
Cleft upon the mountain’s peak

The image you have called to mind
A metaphor for womankind

Icy cold or dark and brooding,
Not frame for sky with sun protruding

If as a cloud you would me see
Then give me choice of form to be

And let me, joyful, as your muse
Reflect your light in rainbow hues.

You know that feeling you get when you wake up in the morning and it's June, and the sun is on your face, and you roll over lazily and open your eyes and remember that today is the day you get to go to the beach with a bunch of people you really like a lot? You still have some time before you have to get ready, so you let your mind wander and you ( Read more... )

Betty came over around 10 am. The TV was background noise as we sat on the couch schmoozing, a plate of kalamata olives, dolmades, cherry peppers, fresh mushrooms, artichoke hearts, and a really interesting cheddar cheese in front of us.

Every once in a while, we had to break from the ( Read more... )

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