Reverie

Across an open wheat field,
harvesters are caught napping,
sprawled like starfish, in billowed sleeves
formal for laborers, rows of cotton folds
and collars that hint at tailor’s starch.
One tucks into the shape of sleepy squash,
another leans into a haystack–.
flushed with sleep, a ruddy-robust
laborer tumbles like an old lover
a  hay-ride through his unbuttoned shirt
across his  tawny chest –impressions
of my flushed cheek, pressed to the window
of their tavern, rowdy up the rafters,
hints of terra cotta,
a full bodied earthy dance,
shaded in Breughel turquoise
the artist protects their right to carry-on

Author’s note

This community has so much to offer!

Like jumping onto a spinning merry-go-around –

Like getting on the bus, as opposed to not getting on the bus.

I am looking forward to seeing our collection in its entirety;

and to the next poetry workshop coming up .

Just a shout out to my cat who doesn't know

she is Gretta Garbo on and off the screen.