by PAT PHILLIPS WEST
I want a spot in the backyard
by the hydrangea bushes for wine drinking,
where folks can relax on wicker chairs
with plush cushions, the same dusty blue
and lavender shades.
Sunday soirees attended by musicians,
poets and painters. Music and murmurs
flowing from soft mouths and guitars.
Friends who will discuss things
like how every single atom
in our bodies was created in a star
billions of years ago.
Every single natural and man-made thing,
every rock, tree, butterfly
and building contains particles
that arose during the Big Bang.
I want to meditate looking at a stone,
until I know its soul.
I want to hold my violin, draw down the bow,
play to the end of the string
and pull out all the sweetness.
I want a lot more summer rain.
About the Author
Pat's poems have been published in various journals including Haunted Waters Press, Clover, a Literary Rag, San Pedro River Review, Slipstream, Gold Man Review and elsewhere. She is a multiple Pushcart nominee and a Best of the Net nominee.
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