Secrets of summer lemonade

  Bills stacking like houses of cards,

  poised to crash like the economy.

  Bills used as cup holders,

  place holders, tissues and napkins.

  Bills delivered by mail, by cyber waves,

  by stork.

  But we’re outside in the garden,

  climbing into the branches

  in search of carts of lemons,

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  ready to be ground into sweet relief.

  Set sail

  The ship is threatening mutiny,

  stretches of time spent in safer water

  until the mossy ocean grass has set roots

  in the hull, embraced the anchor

  in nature’s death grip.

  Break away before the ship dives

  into the blue like Moby’s wealthy whale.

  Crack open the sails, chip through

  the webs and dust,

  leave before you plan the leaving.

  Depart before you know the meaning.

  A ship needs two things only:

  two captains and a sea worth sailing.