Mint

We are suited to each other,
I think.

She is patient
with my lack of experience,
not minding the absence of green
in my thumb.

Mint curls a tendril around me.
“I will teach you,” she says.
“All you want to know.”

For starters, she is independent.
Take her inside over the winter
and she will wither. It is no kindness
to keep her from the world she loves.

But that doesn’t mean
she’ll shun all attention.

Check in on her
on dry, hot days.
Mint loves to stay a little wet,
but not drown.

She makes a lovely companion
in the quiet of your back porch.
But mind that she’s in a place that suits you both.

Otherwise, she’ll run wild
over the rest of your garden
until all you can taste is her
on the heavy summer air.

There is something about mint
that plays well with my energy.
There is something familiar and dear
about her tingle.

There is something about mint that feels
like the sweetest magic I’d forgotten
or pushed away.

But mint holds no grudges.
So long as I respect her
she rewards me

with a bright, effusive flavor
that lingers in my mouth
or her distinctive scent
on my hand when I stroke her.

Photo by SIMON LEE on Unsplash

Song Choice: Treat Her Like A Lady by The Temptations

Liner Notes For This Groove: This poem was created for the prompt given by Poets and Storytellers United, Mining the Journals. I like to take notes on plants I try growing for various and sundry purposes. LOL, mint is the first plant I really tried to grow. It helps a lot that I enjoy a cup of mint tea blend in the evenings.

Two Unexpected

Two unexpected
seeds dropped.

One on a winter evening
when it had the indecency
to rain instead of snow.

One on a summer afternoon
when sunshine pulled out
everyone from inside the house.

Why go out
and expose flesh
to numbing rain

for just dinner and a movie
when there’s a perfectly good bed?

Why stay inside
a stifling room
when a breeze from the bay
feels so good on skin 

on skin in the shade?

One winter day. One summer day.
The company was more than fine.

Perhaps we should have been a little less surprised
at how life (and love) grows in welcoming spaces
despite the whims of the weather.

Photo by Bastien Jaillot on Unsplash

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Song Choice: Closing Time covered by Wendy Child

Liner Notes For This Groove: This poem was created for the Weekly Scribblings prompt at Poets United, Sudden Moments.

Waiting

The cicada calls crest and wash over me.

Their high summer drone is not loud enough

to compete with the din in my head.

They will be hushed soon

when the world holds its breath

between dark and light.

But the sun moves slowly

and the wind is too tired

to move the heavy air around me.

I am grateful for the heat at least

that will keep so many inside

while I keep my vigil.

I am waiting for the stars

hidden by daylight. Logic tells me

they have not disappeared.

I need to remember 

what it means to shine, 

even when clouds dim the light.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Artwork by Shelle Kennedy.
Find more of her art on her blog, her Etsy shop, and Instagram.

Song Choice: Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the Weekend Mini Challenge at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads, Let Evening Come.

Exalted in Scarlet

The wind acts as herald,

as sharp as the sound of a hand clap

calling you to pay attention,

because the procession is about to begin.

Summer enjoys a few last tumbles,

as Autumn promenades onward

to the sound of cricket minstrels.

The swish of Autumn’s robes

is heard in the rustling of the leaves,

who have donned their festival colors

in honor of its arrival.

Autumn waves starlight trimmed sleeves
while the nights grow longer
and nature's din dims to
sighs and susurrations.

I can't help slowing down too,
swept up in the pageantry
of Autumn's regal progression.



Song Choice: Kamigama-Sama from Spirited Away

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

Summer's Charm

Summer is a show off.

Draped in vines encircling hips,

and occulting flowers,

Summer stretches out an arm

drawing you in.

Drawing you in, seedling in full quiver,

and insisting you bear the heat

as glitter tongued Summer

licks each longing leaf and petal.

You wait your turn for Adam Eve kisses,

murmuring lily oaths

into Summer’s bejeweled ears.

“Oh dear love,” Summer whispers

with lupine lips brushing your skin.

“Speak to me in snapdragon sighs.

Be bold when you kiss back,

and I will withhold nothing.”

And you do. You kiss back,

until your firefly eyes see clear

after the poppy bliss of daylight.

And the night wind carries

chamomile caresses after a day

well spent, with Summer’s promise

of “Again, at dawn’s first light.” 

Song Choice: As the World Falls Down by David Bowie

This poem was inspired by Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads: Bits of Inspiration - Amber Rose Tamblyn

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

August

Cicada murmuring,

telling ghost stories at day,

bespelling the listener.

By Rommy Cortez-Driks

This post is for the Tuesday Platform on Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads