With a beer, black and stout, beneath the tree in the corner by the pool, reclined.
At peace.
Beneath the hadeda nest and the crescent moon, which bejewels the ink-pot night sky.
Not even a breath, except mine: I'm alive in my Source.
Crickets, many, some frogs in the distance. World seems at peace.
Soft light, festive lights.
Ripples in and on the pool. Drop a stone into the pond
And see what on the ripples comes back
Beer taste of metal in my mouth
Oh to kiss
Apple you're too clever, spell ahead, and trip me up. Go away
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