Spooky little Blues Cruise

We drifted....teetering a little to the left, a little upstream, or maybe down, and thicker into the Swamp.  Eyeballs everywhere.  Giant beak nosed vultures, 1000 years old I'm sure, sat perched at Sentinel Guard, staring down at us....Waiting.  Their beady little eyes darting.  Giving us the once over, in case we suddenly became just stiff enough to gobble up. 

The banks of this river breathe....and in the quiet...an impromptu drum circle begins....twigs snapping in rhythm, the footsteps of faieries or Big Foot, I'm not sure,  dancing....in the forest...the laughter of strangers deep in the woods, the low and thunderous groan of the Gator King....his rheumy eyes cast low, and his crooked smile....slurping up the tepid still waters...waiting...

We turn up the radio, just a little bit, Luther Vandross for the soul....

And still, we can hear the banjo's....

Coffee with one sugar and all my Dreams

It's early morning....
and the sky sits low,
crawling just above the ground...
gray and damp,
wheezing like an old dog
curled on his muddy backdoor  rug....

And yet, it's delightful.  Something about it is Old Soul.  Comfortable.  Familiar.

The Blue skies of tomorrow are being painted in a secret room above the clouds, and the wild winds of yesterday are parked in the corner....hung over from their willful misbehaviour last night.

Today is Peace.

I park my crickety old self on the park bench and sip coffee in the quiet just outside my door.  I breathe better here....

Under the simple skies....

Words and artwork (c) Singleton 2013 Coffee table courtesty of Merle, green and splattered in machine oil.... just waiting for me to tattoo the spirit of the river smack on it's ruddy surface:)  Thank you, new friend!