June Crawford Sanders
Bio Note: Life is a bit topsy-turvy at the present, as it is for everyone. We still have no phone, wifi, and very limited cell service due to the Dixie Fire. But are so much luckier than many were. Looking forward to a return to some kind of normal.
Beware the know-it-all, my friend and fear the clatter-bok, brown grass hides the coyote. The truck is red, its engine dead and hippies stole the peyote. The axis has tilted, but not without warning, river overflowed its bounds. The smoke is filled with valley this morning, foxes are chasing the hounds. Tall the trees and deep the ocean stretching to the horizon; love and hate in circular motion – smiling, weaving lies on tap, soothe the Sayer with ominous potion. Black are the clouds that hover like shrouds, sage is tied up in bundles. Loose the strings, free the streams, no time for fingers to fumble. Mountains rise and puncture the skies, clouds line up like penguins. Juniper berries will never make sherry so don't expect a fine vin but with lemon, orange, and cinnamon sticks we may get a useful gin. Senses alert, no time for sleep – diamonds sparkle on shallow water the same as they do on deep. Love and compassion will win out, thanks to children, lovers, and balladeers; there are times the song is heard before the singer appears.
©2022 June Crawford Sanders
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