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Rest now, my love, I have the watch. As you sleep, I will command the Moon Bathe your room In her silver light. I will require the Sun Return to you, To warm your world. I will cast dreams Into the night, As gentle amusement. I will demand stars To shine for you Light my beloved's night. • Donovan Baldwin

Ever seeking to make better Our faces and bodies Never satisfied with God-given attributes Our human frailty It’s your inner beauty Which attracts me Like honey every sweet Drop I imbibe eagerly Wanting more Ions connected via images So enticing and real But yet so absent And never to be here Floating bits of promise Perhaps it’s really best As reality can be inferior To fascinating images Drawn in words Upon flimsy pages This is perfection Upon which glimpses Of reality sneak through To be pushed aside In favor of this you

Seems like a good message to share on a Monday… I hope you feel Joy Chooses You Today… Joy does not arrive with a fanfare, on a red carpet strewn with the flowers of a perfect life. Joy sneaks in, as you pour a cup of coffee, watching the sun hit your favourite tree, just right. And you usher joy away, because you are not ready for it. Your house is not as it must be, for such a distinguished guest. But joy cares nothing for your messy home, or your bank-balance, or your waistline, you see. Joy is supposed to slither through the cracks of your imperfect life, that’s how joy works. You cannot truly invite her, you can only be ready when she appears. And hug her with meaning, because in this very moment, joy chose you. (By Donna Ashworth, Art by Alev Neto) Happy Monday my friends 💛

Bounteous and colorful Falling like rain Swirling and whirling Wind swept antics Piles of rainbows Moved by gusts Rolling like tide and Seafoam blowing An autumn storm Beats laden branches Releasing leaves Like falling stars Rustling movement Quivering limbs Quietly falling Whispering Good Bye

As gray mist rolls down From high hills, To the rippling waters Of a silvery sea, A figure slips seductively Through the haze, Threads of earthbound cloud Caressing, Swirling about her body, The passage of apparition Through the dew of dawn, Brings pleasure, To eyes that follow. • Donovan Baldwin

In 1967, while in the U.S. Army, I was stationed at an American air force base, outside a small town, in the middle of Texas. Being a normal American lad, I indulged in the common actitivities of the day, including regular consumption of large amounts of beer at a local bar. My friends and I also played pool (pocket billiards) with another, older denizen of the J&J Tavern, in San Angelo, Texas. His name was Lacey. He was OLD, to our young eyes, although younger then, than I am now. Worn out cowboy hat and boots; dirty, dingy shirt. Big beer belly hanging over a huge western belt buckle, and pants that looked worse than the shirt. Lacey loved to drink beer and shoot pool. He was not a very good pool player, although he loved to bet a dollar a game. He was so bad, so beat-up looking, and so carefree, that we often let him win his dollar back after beating him badly in a game. We didn't know whether to feel sorry for Lacey or not. Despite the pleasure he found in drinking beer with his buddies, and shooting pool, all day, he appeared poor. We assumed he was on Social Security or some form of welfare..."the dole" as they say in the U.K., I believe. One bright Summer day a huge new Cadillac pulled up in front of the J&J Tavern. A big woman, wearing a fur coat in spite of the heat, and wearing many expensive looking pieces of jewelry, got out, stomped into the comfortable darkness of the tavern and yelled, "Lacey, get your butt out in that car. You know we're having dinner with the governor and you've got to change out of those rags!" Lacey slunk out to the car. If he had been a dog, not only would his head have been down, but his tail would have been between his legs. As they drove off, my drinking buddy, Bill, who, unfortunately, passed away a couple of years ago still swearing he had introduced me to Clint Eastwood one night at the Mission Ranch in Carmel in 1967.... well,anyway, Bill and I looked at each other in bewilderment. The bartender, straightened us out. She explained that, after scratching out a living for decades on a tiny patch of land with a few head of scrawny cattle, oil had been found directly under Lacey's wee little patch of Earth. Lacey was NOT on the dole. He was one of the richest men in the county! First lesson I took away was to never judge anybody by their appearance. That one's obvious. Over the years, another lesson has become more obvious to me: You can have everything that most people dream of, and still not find happiness. For Lacey, happiness was beer, buddies, and billiards at a dollar a game. The rest just ruined his day. His wife didn't seem that happy either. I told this story for years, and, as I grew older I began to wonder if maybe I had made Lacey up. With the aid of the internet, I actually was able to find out more about him. He died years ago, still a rich man. Don't know if he died a happy man, but, he was rich...for what it's worth. • Donovan Baldwin

I, with my cheap red wine, Toast the moon, the stars, The darkness of the night, Which turns the world into A place fit for drinking poets, For, the sun, the king of daylight, Does not activate the bardic soul As does the silver lady and her cohort, In their black velvet dress, Scattering silver over everything. • Donovan Baldwin

How can this staid old poet, Scottish Pict and not Romany, Manifest so much gypsy blood, Wine red blood which boils in moonlight, Roiled by the sound of mad guitars, Or sad sad violins, Stirred by old stories, Tantalized by tales, Of times which might have been, Maybe never were, But, damn well should have? • Donovan Baldwin

I, self-proclaimed writer of poetry, Read a bit of doggerel, Listen to a country song, Watch a stream skipping over rocks, A bird flying by on a way to somewhere, Assist the sun in rising, later, Putting him to bed, and, Welcoming my lady moon, Lay down my pen in darkness, Close my eyes, and, Let my poem write itself. • Donovan Baldwin

Warmth runs over me, pure joy As sunshine quickens Memories alive, vivid Sunbathing in serenity Eyes tight, unabashedly smiling Face glowing and flushed Skin tingling at sun’s touch Soul erupting in song  My chair and deck Morph into sandy shores Rejuvenating needed In the shortening days A sigh escapes me In blissful peace Wrapped in glowing rays Kissed by the sun Darkness and gloom May be threatening Coming to invade my peace Certainly soon Sunbathing serenity Lock it away Retrieve as needed On a cold winter day

Let us bury our dead and move on, For the living have no time for mourning, As long as we see the sun arise each day It is our time to do what must be done And, leaving death to the dead and dying, Merely doff our hats, and bow our heads at The passing of the coffins on their way, To that place, for it's not yet time For us to reside in the halls of death. • Donovan Baldwin