American songwriter, singer, and chill vibes maestro, Jimmy Buffett set sail for calmer shores on the first day of September 2023. His 76 years of perpetual motion helped bring balance to many a weary soul, through soothing and playful reminders to savor life's simple pleasures, even while navigating rough sea's.

Learning of his death jolted me. The humanity of his songs and the poetic brush he painted with, spanned between scenes of laid-back leisure and relatable real-life mosaics. These songs have, and will continue to inform and comfort me.

http://twitter.com/POTUS/status/1698022437340819623?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Etweet

http://www.wsj.com/story/jimmy-buffetts-life-in-photos-ad699bbb

This is a touching heart-wrenching expression of emotions I empathize with, Storm.

Your thoughtful feedback is much appreciated, Storm.

Thanks for keeping us informed about 2K, Storm. It's good to know she's recovering.

Thank you both.

Morning dew clinging to shimmering leaves,
sap veins made visible in the glistening light
life flows inside.

Hanging dewdrops drip from the tips,
pulled to the dry earth beneath
by the spinning of this galaxy we’re rooted in.

The blaze of a stellar parent
feeds bellies, fuels the dynamo
cranking the celestial assembly line.

Blueprints racing through brains
carried by muscle bone and skin
that build pencil drawings into skyscrapers.

Blood vessels distend in the glistening light,
life flows inside.
Sweat seeping from pores trickles from fingertips,
pooling on the dry earth beneath.

Hang tough Sherrie. Wishing you speedy healing.

Uncle Kracker

Azrael Azitgets

This was a test.

Thank you, Storm.

Thank you, Julie.

Barges of plastic flotsam
carry sun faded labels
hawking in all of earth's tongues,
bobbing and bumping
touching every numb shore
while stinging waders in this chum.

Melt-water brims over
our continental coastal cups.
The arctic iceberg sculpture
is overflowing the party's pool
a spotlight decomposes it
making rising seas gush.

I'm hot under the collar about
flooded streets and railway goof's.
Gonna open all the windows
then switch off the AC,
mount solar panels on the roof
and cool the temp with LED's.

A warm open-arms expression, Mike.

I really appreciate your kind support of my writing, Storm.

Thank you, Julie.

I appreciate it, Robin.

Thanks Mike. My pillow is my main squeeze.

Synthetic strands of woven gray
sheath cotton fluff that lays along
the bib of my sleeveless shirt clad chest.

Cradled in the crooks of both elbows,
forearms chamfering the flanks,
fingers clasp the haunches
drawing this soft body against my waist.

Not roused by me squirming or
by my pulsing blood churning
this lifeless lump insulates
my organs.

Fullness in my gut
and my effervescing pores whisper
in tingly sighs like it were a woman
as enamored of me as I am of
this pillow I'm holding.

The clever title got my attention. The stream of thoughts flow well in this expression. As a poem, I think it would read better broken into shorter lines and stanzas.