therealtamara

What has time taught us

It's eight o' somewhere or
Perhaps 5pm as drinkers
Share. Grab a gin, mix in a
Tonic. Salud. But time does
Not just mark the rotations
For cocktail hour or bedtime 
If you're sleepy. It is a valued
Tool when you've wanted to
Knock off work or plant crops 
It's junior only to a season's 
Measure but more intimate 
And personal in its breadth.
You know that it's 5 o'clock 
Somewhere. Raise a glass
Or just dim the lights and
Head home. Closing time.

34-Love

All these years, we never dropped 
The ball. If it happened to fall, we
Would have been there, saving the
Other the embarrassment when it
Rolled away off the court. It didn't

Winds and rain

Straining for the sun and
Beaten down by winds or
Rain-soaked, tulips wonder
If they came up too soon.
My jacket, less than I need,
Makes me nod at this real
Concern. When the summer
Heats us beyond reason
Will we feel the winds and
Rain, miss the comfort of
Our discomfort, yearn for 
Yesterday's wintry spring

Summer

I came for summer
And stayed for fall
Autumn leaves fell
I was still here and
Now it was getting
Cold. The chill did
Not deter. I waited
It out. Spring was
'Round every corner.
I stayed for summer.

May

April was "the cruelest month"
T. S. Eliot had his sway, being
Right only goes so far and now
May comes in teasing, blowing 
Hot and cold like a lady in waiting
Flowers, famously made hers
By the showers of anticipation
From the clouds of the month
Before sit unsure of themselves
In beds strewn around tree trunks
Cast too early for their colorful
Debuts, appearing papery and 
Transparent in the iffy sunshine
Of overcast May days, seeking
Succor from the chill winds, not
Quite secure in their nesting 
Places. Chaucer spoke of the
Renewal that is spring. I say it's 
A process and a time of year.

Unusual

Were you expecting rain, or
Hale? Violent weather comes 
Uninvited and bids Adieu to
Crops or kills off wildlife and
Man, together. We may not be
Prepared, but someone warned 
Of this impending doom. A big
Change was coming. They all
Said climate would affect us
Soon and not in a good way.
What were you expecting?

Saving graces

We can't save our loves from
Their fate, their anxiety. Their 
Path is a parallel journey we
Share. We can not even save
Ourselves. Who can steer away
Clear of the shallows and the
Rocks, of life's pitfalls and the
Dangers that come to us all
From living,  through life's path. 
We see when love isn't enough.
It doesn't stop our heartbreaks.
We are saved by loving but we
Can not save the other or get 
Either of us safely home. It all
Happens too fast and moves
At a snail's pace, we seek and
Then we avoid, tripping over 
Our desires, protecting and
Worrying. Worrying, unable
To protect ourselves or our
Beloved in life's uncertainties.

Spring pleasures

Our personal juices
Teasing through our 
Veins. We are giddy.
Floral scents and that
Chaos of color makes
Us flighty as a puppy
Chasing butterflies. 
It's spring; we crave
Love but more than 
That. We're unreliable.
It's spring. Our blood
Is pumped for and
Primed. Renewal is
A reward, a privilege

The love life of flowers

The genitalia of flowers is frequently 
On display, even in polite society as
Startling and unexpected as innocent 
A pictorial to guide us on their growth

What good

Loving you will save us, although
I know I am powerless, and my 
Love can't save you from what
Ails you and rips you from me, I 
Know that actively loving, giving
My whole heart in my care for you
Is my salvation. Our lives are on
Parallel paths, but our love is a
Collision course, both perilous 
And divine. Love doesn't stop a
Heartbreak, but giving love can
Mend or bend and reunite us  
With our better, nay best selves