Pome: Be More Immature Than Your Kids

Dare you…

A space constructed onetime. Pic: Paradisio Publishing

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Be More Immature Than Your Kids

you see them in their wintry garb

thick longcoats

woollen mittens and black and brownhued deerskin gloves

scarves fashioned from the fleeces of the alpaca of Bolivia

and their smiles: alive enough to dazzle any frostlaced morn

swigging jugs of steaming hot chocolate

mugs of spiced and trickedup gluhwein

ambling the village lanes

church bells pealing

the promise of all

a wondrous thing.

where do they go these burghers the rest of most of the year?

i see them too on poppy day, emotion showing, and at easter or on a hot summer afternoon

when the light incandescent cathedrals the hamlet and the world is a symphony of sense