07-19-2018, 08:22 PM
Thank you everyone for the feedback so far! Here is version two
Edit 1:
Warm oozes in
through the wooden backbone
of your mostly concrete home;
concrete and wood,
the anthem of here.
Day-old plazas
appear classic at sunset,
crumbling docks
perched at water's edges, resting sleepy and uneasy
to be scrapped away next hurricane season
or maybe
stand their ground another year.
Unchanging as our seasons,
Florida girl, you never thought you'd be
our most fiery defense
nor unwilling hostage
yet here you are,
clinging to steamy sidewalks,
radiating through the soles of your Vans
("my body wasn't made for this!").
Unchanging, you are, as the Florida fall:
making a season from scratch
with spirit, with cider and cinnamon sticks,
avocado vomit from a jack-o-lantern mouth
your friend dressed up as her 'ideal self'
your ex and me in the same pumpkin T-shirt
(whoops).
Florida's fall
has little to do with Florida at all
And you pull it in close like a hug.
Unwavering as those few weeks
of still, wet, winter air
biting down in spite of a sky that smiles blue,
happy to host this
traffic of touristing cardinals,
woodpeckers and northern pintails,
flocking to greet you like the old friends
who, too, roll in around this time.
Unceasing as the spring and summer showers,
some torrential, blurring away
what once seemed near
but just for now,
rain-smacked mud puddles
splash themselves on the wet engine-heat
of cars who've learned to drive straight through this
half-blind, for a moment.
Or the cloudless kind,
sprinkles from nowhere,
God flicking Her wet hands from above;
Where do these happy tears come from?
And where do you think you're going,
Florida girl?
Cupping in your hands a life
that pools up, is full, spills out again,
ever unchanging in the staleness and the newness
it brings you and then
lets seep away.
My favorite in all this:
One of those soft Florida hands
left to drip-dry
reaches out
for one of mine.
Original:
Unchanging as our seasons
Florida girl you never thought you'd be
our most ardent defender
nor unwilling hostage
but here you are.
Clinging to steamy sidewalks,
radiating through the soles of your vans
("my body wasn't made for this!").
Warm seeps in
through the wooden skeleton
of your mostly concrete home;
Concrete and wood,
the anthem of here.
Concrete plazas,
somehow glowing in the sunset,
crumbling wooden docks
perched at water's edges, resting sleepy and uneasy
to be scrapped away next hurricane season-
or perhaps stand strong-
Walked on by all manner of gulls,
pelicans, egrets and spoonbills
in the meantime.
Unchanging, you are
as the Florida Fall:
putting forth the effort fall here requires
in spirit, in cider and cinnamon sticks,
avocado vomit from a jack-o-lantern mouth
your friend dressed up as her 'ideal self'
your ex and me in the same pumpkin shirt
(whoops).
Florida's Fall
has little to do with Florida at all
And you pull it in close like a hug.
Unchanging as the spring and summer showers.
Some torrential,
everything but two feet ahead
obscured for now,
mud puddles danced in by rain
splatter themselves on the wet engine-heat
of cars who've learned to drive straight through this
half-blind.
Or the kind without a cloud in sight,
sprinkles from nowhere,
God flicking her wet hands from above;
Where do these happy tears come from?
And where do you come from
Florida girl
Unchanging as those few weeks
of still, wet, winter air
biting down in spite of a sky that smiles blue,
happy to host this traffick
of touristing bluebirds,
cardinals, woodpeckers and northern pintails.
Cupping in your hands a life
that pools up, is full, spills out again,
ever unchanging in the staleness and the newness
it brings to you and lets seep away.
My favorite in all this
is when you take one of those Florida hands
let it drip dry
and reach out to hold mine.
Edit 1:
Warm oozes in
through the wooden backbone
of your mostly concrete home;
concrete and wood,
the anthem of here.
Day-old plazas
appear classic at sunset,
crumbling docks
perched at water's edges, resting sleepy and uneasy
to be scrapped away next hurricane season
or maybe
stand their ground another year.
Unchanging as our seasons,
Florida girl, you never thought you'd be
our most fiery defense
nor unwilling hostage
yet here you are,
clinging to steamy sidewalks,
radiating through the soles of your Vans
("my body wasn't made for this!").
Unchanging, you are, as the Florida fall:
making a season from scratch
with spirit, with cider and cinnamon sticks,
avocado vomit from a jack-o-lantern mouth
your friend dressed up as her 'ideal self'
your ex and me in the same pumpkin T-shirt
(whoops).
Florida's fall
has little to do with Florida at all
And you pull it in close like a hug.
Unwavering as those few weeks
of still, wet, winter air
biting down in spite of a sky that smiles blue,
happy to host this
traffic of touristing cardinals,
woodpeckers and northern pintails,
flocking to greet you like the old friends
who, too, roll in around this time.
Unceasing as the spring and summer showers,
some torrential, blurring away
what once seemed near
but just for now,
rain-smacked mud puddles
splash themselves on the wet engine-heat
of cars who've learned to drive straight through this
half-blind, for a moment.
Or the cloudless kind,
sprinkles from nowhere,
God flicking Her wet hands from above;
Where do these happy tears come from?
And where do you think you're going,
Florida girl?
Cupping in your hands a life
that pools up, is full, spills out again,
ever unchanging in the staleness and the newness
it brings you and then
lets seep away.
My favorite in all this:
One of those soft Florida hands
left to drip-dry
reaches out
for one of mine.
Original:
Unchanging as our seasons
Florida girl you never thought you'd be
our most ardent defender
nor unwilling hostage
but here you are.
Clinging to steamy sidewalks,
radiating through the soles of your vans
("my body wasn't made for this!").
Warm seeps in
through the wooden skeleton
of your mostly concrete home;
Concrete and wood,
the anthem of here.
Concrete plazas,
somehow glowing in the sunset,
crumbling wooden docks
perched at water's edges, resting sleepy and uneasy
to be scrapped away next hurricane season-
or perhaps stand strong-
Walked on by all manner of gulls,
pelicans, egrets and spoonbills
in the meantime.
Unchanging, you are
as the Florida Fall:
putting forth the effort fall here requires
in spirit, in cider and cinnamon sticks,
avocado vomit from a jack-o-lantern mouth
your friend dressed up as her 'ideal self'
your ex and me in the same pumpkin shirt
(whoops).
Florida's Fall
has little to do with Florida at all
And you pull it in close like a hug.
Unchanging as the spring and summer showers.
Some torrential,
everything but two feet ahead
obscured for now,
mud puddles danced in by rain
splatter themselves on the wet engine-heat
of cars who've learned to drive straight through this
half-blind.
Or the kind without a cloud in sight,
sprinkles from nowhere,
God flicking her wet hands from above;
Where do these happy tears come from?
And where do you come from
Florida girl
Unchanging as those few weeks
of still, wet, winter air
biting down in spite of a sky that smiles blue,
happy to host this traffick
of touristing bluebirds,
cardinals, woodpeckers and northern pintails.
Cupping in your hands a life
that pools up, is full, spills out again,
ever unchanging in the staleness and the newness
it brings to you and lets seep away.
My favorite in all this
is when you take one of those Florida hands
let it drip dry
and reach out to hold mine.