Move

It's makeover time

I've found a new location

Here I'll move my rhymes

wings

What is it,

Why is it,

How is it

You do -

That thing with

the butterfly wings?

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Butterfly, Barbara Butler McCoy, Etowah Indian Mounds, September 2009]]

Ninety-eight in the Shade

Ninety-eight in the shade.

Frenzied for his lemonade

With great delight I take my place,

Savor his fruit, so sweet to my taste.

Forget this day some mermaid's coffee.

Let me rest at noon dreaming of Weeki Wachee.

Sunburnt I am, turning dark, but lovely.

Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, he loves me.

My sun-soaked 'hon' stands at the grill,

Flipping that others may get their fill,

Proclaims, "Behold, he stands behind our wall!

Shoo, you mite - you dare not stall!"

With barely a thought said mite steals weenies

Then races to see all the lovely bikinis.

Leaping he flies, a young stag, over grass parched -

A gazelle skipping on the lawn dry as starch.

"To love young, love seasoned," we raise rounded goblets.

He toasts to lips, lips "like a strand of scarlet,"

Says, "How beautiful are your feet in sandals.

Head to toe you eclipse the sun, earth's bright candle."

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Umbrellas at Pool, as seen from St. Simons

Lighthouse; Barbara Butler McCoy; August, 2009]]

Birthday Sonnet, the Third

This sole soul, that lone soul, circuit this globe

Beyond time, measure by measure, their feet

Graceful and precise beneath mercy's robe.

Their rhymes, their reasons making life complete.

Sunlight, dawn, and roses - word made flesh, bone.

Mere painted players, yet more, filling stage

After stage, stars to guide the lonely home.

It matters not one's nation, creed, or age.

Draw back the curtain, leave behind the lies

That pit the lost against the lost - darkness

Desolation gripping so many eyes.

Sun and stars, these loving souls end starkness.

His words light way to walk as others do.

His timeless phrases provide our cue.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Sky over Currituck Sound, NC; Barbara

Butler McCoy, November, 2010]]

Sage

No blackberries

trembling,

tempting twitterers

with juicy tidbits,

sustenance

No buds

'ere,

streaming by

o'er the shoulder,

distraction

No distance,

secluded

here, now,

silken slippers dusted,

serenity.

Barbara Butler McCoy

[[Photo: Stone statue in courtyard, January 12, 2011;

Barbara Butler McCoy]]