The sound of serenity

The lazy days of summer
are by and by, fading away;
I hear it as the breeze
sashays through the trees.

Wind chimes join the waltz,
each elegant note
sounding the arrival
of crisp fall days ahead.

The sweet serenade
brings inner peace
and infuses my spirit
with the sound of serenity.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/sunset-sun-sky-fields-grass-4329161/

Lost loves and unlickable lollipops

She knew she was getting closer
as the crashing of the waves
could be heard just ahead.
And with each thunderous roar,
she felt the beckoning vibrations
welcoming her home.
Those undulating arms
grew her anticipation,
each surge increasing her desire
for all she had missed.
And as the last golden mound appeared,
her excitement could hardly be contained.
For she knew in just a few more moments
she’d be dipping her eager toes
in those wonderful frothy tides.
One last hurdle was all it took,
and then a sigh and gasp broke free.
It was even more beautiful
than she’d remembered,
and a sea of gleaming diamonds
met her wondrous gaze.
The lolly she’d been enjoying
suddenly fell forgotten.
The shiny morsel deeply embedded
in the powdery sand.
The jaw-dropping scene
left her limp and bedazzled.
The setting much too impressive
for any other cares.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/north-sea-mother-child-boy-499030/

Writing Prompt: Lost loves and unlickable lollipops

A Peeping Poet

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It’s a crisp fall morning
As she carefully dips her toes
There’s a hidden alcove there
Where nobody goes

The water is calm
So very peaceful and serene
And she washes discreetly
Mindful she isn’t seen

A sudden splash and ripple
Quickly catch her attention
And she shields her breasts
In modest apprehension

But it’s only just a loon
Seeking out its prey
And her fear subsides
As the majestic creature flies away

Back to her bathing
She becomes lost in introspection
So she bends down slowly
To look at her reflection

She sees a stubby little nose
With wide blue eyes
And there’s a small pointy chin
Which she’d like to disguise

Her blurred image
Stares back for quite awhile
And something about it
Suddenly makes her smile

She lets out an embarrassed giggle
After realizing she’s been seen
She happens to notice a poet
Has come upon the scene

I’m so sorry I reply
To disturb you in the nude
I wanted to capture the moment
Even though I see it was rather rude

Please go on with your bathing
And I’ll return from where I came
And next time I see you
I’ll try my best to refrain

© 2018 Michelle Cook


The Painting is, September Morn.  By Paul Émile Chabas

This is love…

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As I sit here and ponder
There’s life all around
Though hardly any
Ever makes a sound

Grown up so handsome
Exquisite and tall
Each one is there
To watch over us all

If only these beauties
Could somehow speak
And give us the answers
We so desperately seek

However, a tree
Could never talk
It’s seen merely
As a perch for a hawk

And yet it really is
So much more
A lovely place
To go and explore

Its branches always
Spread so wide
A real haven
In which to hide

The perfect place
To lie under and exist
Its outstretched arms
So hard to resist

Each leafy canopy
Has seen it all
Leaves delicately spread
To cushion our fall

Can anyone imagine
A more perfect place to be
Other than inside the crook
Of an old oak tree

I can hardly think
Of any other
As it whispers softly
Like the voice of a mother

And I get lost
In the day
As every branch
Begins to sway

This is living
This is life
This is love…

© 2018 Michelle Cook