THOUGHTS
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1985
We're about to have a storm.
The rumbling clouds
that spent the afternoon
homesteading on the horizon
are finally rushing in,
as if to make
a sneak attack.
I go out on the back porch
outside the dining room door;
the cement is still warm on my bare feet,
while the brisk breeze cools me.
Un-asked-for comes the thought,
If ice cream had feelings,
would this be what it's like
to be a huge scoop on vanilla
on a still warm piece of apple pie?
The first tentative drops of rain
plop onto the cement,
and I wander inside
to wait out the storm.
This is part of Love, Feelings, and the Seasons of Life, looking for a permanent home.
Showing posts with label THOUGHTS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label THOUGHTS. Show all posts
Friday, February 4, 2022
Friday, June 11, 2021
THOUGHTS
THOUGHTS
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1985
We're about to have a storm.
The rumbling clouds
that spent the afternoon
homesteading on the horizon
are finally rushing in,
as if to make
a sneak attack.
I go out on the back porch
outside the dining room door;
the cement is still warm on my bare feet,
while the brisk breeze cools me.
Un-asked-for comes the thought,
If ice cream had feelings,
would this be what it's like
to be a huge scoop on vanilla
on a still warm piece of apple pie?
The first tentative drops of rain
plop onto the cement,
and I wander inside
to wait out the storm.
This is part of Love, Feelings, and the Seasons of Life, looking for a permanent home.
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1985
We're about to have a storm.
The rumbling clouds
that spent the afternoon
homesteading on the horizon
are finally rushing in,
as if to make
a sneak attack.
I go out on the back porch
outside the dining room door;
the cement is still warm on my bare feet,
while the brisk breeze cools me.
Un-asked-for comes the thought,
If ice cream had feelings,
would this be what it's like
to be a huge scoop on vanilla
on a still warm piece of apple pie?
The first tentative drops of rain
plop onto the cement,
and I wander inside
to wait out the storm.
This is part of Love, Feelings, and the Seasons of Life, looking for a permanent home.
Monday, November 16, 2020
THOUGHTS
THOUGHTS
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1985
We're about to have a storm.
The rumbling clouds
that spent the afternoon
homesteading on the horizon
are finally rushing in,
as if to make
a sneak attack.
I go out on the back porch
outside the dining room door;
the cement is still warm on my bare feet,
while the brisk breeze cools me.
Un-asked-for comes the thought,
If ice cream had feelings,
would this be what it's like
to be a huge scoop on vanilla
on a still warm piece of apple pie?
The first tentative drops of rain
plop onto the cement,
and I wander inside
to wait out the storm.
This is part of Love, Feelings, and the Seasons of Life, looking for a permanent home.
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1985
We're about to have a storm.
The rumbling clouds
that spent the afternoon
homesteading on the horizon
are finally rushing in,
as if to make
a sneak attack.
I go out on the back porch
outside the dining room door;
the cement is still warm on my bare feet,
while the brisk breeze cools me.
Un-asked-for comes the thought,
If ice cream had feelings,
would this be what it's like
to be a huge scoop on vanilla
on a still warm piece of apple pie?
The first tentative drops of rain
plop onto the cement,
and I wander inside
to wait out the storm.
This is part of Love, Feelings, and the Seasons of Life, looking for a permanent home.
Friday, June 12, 2020
THOUGHTS
THOUGHTS
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1985
We're about to have a storm.
The rumbling clouds
that spent the afternoon
homesteading on the horizon
are finally rushing in,
as if to make
a sneak attack.
I go out on the back porch
outside the dining room door;
the cement is still warm on my bare feet,
while the brisk breeze cools me.
Un-asked-for comes the thought,
If ice cream had feelings,
would this be what it's like
to be a huge scoop on vanilla
on a still warm piece of apple pie?
The first tentative drops of rain
plop onto the cement,
and I wander inside
to wait out the storm.
This is part of Love, Feelings, and the Seasons of Life, looking for a permanent home.
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1985
We're about to have a storm.
The rumbling clouds
that spent the afternoon
homesteading on the horizon
are finally rushing in,
as if to make
a sneak attack.
I go out on the back porch
outside the dining room door;
the cement is still warm on my bare feet,
while the brisk breeze cools me.
Un-asked-for comes the thought,
If ice cream had feelings,
would this be what it's like
to be a huge scoop on vanilla
on a still warm piece of apple pie?
The first tentative drops of rain
plop onto the cement,
and I wander inside
to wait out the storm.
This is part of Love, Feelings, and the Seasons of Life, looking for a permanent home.
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