the bashful smile, the singing one. coquettish and without qualm, a rock song
guitar wailing warm; grabbing the tab, offering to drive, coffee in mason
jars. little things to be shared, no one’s to carry. gestures
the quickest to the draw shooting for stary eyes, a glimpse of coy
you got me partner. kick the spurs from these boots, this wild
whistling winter around the corner might snow us in
but that wind howling smile, the bashful one rosing your cheeks,
coming up over the crochet like a campsite sunrise in east Oregon, boy is it warm.
if I could nap all day under it I would, tell you to take the day off and get back under the covers
but the car is heated up, the walkway cleared, the bed is tucked in and there is chameleon brew on our breath
Poetry | Journal 
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