My missus and I
have picked a perfect pint of purple.
The little white dog came along
to further his olfactory research.
A tiny green fellow, watchful and wary
took in the sun and the breezes
on his sticky-toe vertical perch.
I hope a sweet mosquito comes his way.
The shadows of leaves flutter
on the tarp above me.
Ashes of last night's fire
appear dead,
not so,
heat below.
Straight grained oak, clean inside.
With steel it cleaves and pops.
A neat stack of sticks cut,
with twists, strips of tinder and split kindling.
The oak roasts my spuds and onions
with oil in the foil.
It bakes the blackberry biscuit cake
in an black iron pot.
The snappy link button with my avatar was created by kossack belinda ridgewood. Thanks belinda!