Where to begin in friending?


Unlocking Summer                                         by Heidi Robertson 7/31/2013

Privilege awaits dinner on a cartoosh leather couch

Where if you’re not in, you’re out

and clunky canvas slip-ons are not what it’s all about

but they’ll still take your credit card

Imagine, feel, receive

Deer Valleying a fish out of water

While in more Eastern parts

Osprey abound

Fish for bounty

Along the Weber River,

Meat Taker, meet Life Giver.

Ouch! Prey’s not flash fried

but dieing to dine finely

In time, melts on tongue and tallon

like Koosharem trout and greens

Chef Georgesprepares exquisitely

Dinner reservations at St. Regis

Funiculas a geriatric privilege

Funtacular Suicide

Risk dieing in trying to have too much fun

Which others deny, not I

Pride Queeness

Her grace retires early

but stirs, whirs, in feathery flurry

Hot roding and bodying like blackbirds

Perhaps you heard them calling

sleek onyx oiled bodies in pursuit

on Crimson yellow wings

put cautious blue haired herons away

Gone with nesting 401Ks

for night play

Now while the male is napping,

She’s reclining wide awake

Flicks and taps acrylic nails, not cigarrettes

Figuring her bottom line

And sighs

When I retire will I collect my pay….just sit around all day?

Perched licking lips and itching fingers

Renting real estate to renters

Converting money markets in loosers, winners

And play at novice avarice?

No.  I don’t believe in this.  Forget it.

I’ll be a hungry heartist

Flirt with art in open markets

With candy colored stripes and tents

Set up shop, to sell, and sleep and haggle in

A Poor Sicilian if I must,

Vespa riding for bust

Curating happily on cheese and wine my golden time

I wonder on the friends and pieces I’ll collect…

When I defect

Will foreigners make time with sentiment and values?

Forget to ask me in and back again?

Depends on all I’ve given, how I’ve loved

in gambling

and learning second languages

Will they be similar in mind?

Hold gripes, stereotypes

or leave them at the country line

Hope to nab an international grab bag…

of closet braggarts

Taggarts sweets samplers

Jack and Jillers, Jazzy stealers,

Daring to cross the yellow line.

Let’s make a dealer

His and hers.

In this, I’ll share with friends a quieter side

A kinder unconditional find

All right being me, you being you

Like catdog floating clouds

allowed to move both in and out of composition

And people who love visionaries.

Blind to faults

Slow to squeeze the gift….

Praising what ifs


When I am older, slower,

I hope to be the breed I choose to be…

A See’s candy assortment emissary

of dark and milky, nutty chews, Bordeauxs, and creamy caramels

Sporting so many taste bud wranglings,

that even I can’t name them all

Friends never growing tired of me

In staying long and longer

in disbanding time devises

Amune to sugar coma and beta blockers

With Hover crafting walkers

Prone to shop the Sky Mall

Not afraid to call.

Calling me a Goer

Heart smart knower

Forever reader

compulsive writer

Granny Pucket kung fu fighter

Hoodwinker, great deep thinker

brighter…exciter of…

and still quiet tendencies


with more polished friendencies.

Come home again. Come play with me,

High saddling, camaradering

Watch periwinkle thistles peel and spill away

White watering the spillway,

Stay and sieze the day

Intentfully with feetfully we’ll romp

and say we’re none the worse for these.

I think to ornery cacti

my overatures fall mute,

unheard, without a hint of lilacs on the sage

Not you


True blue as oranging marigolds

You’ll welcome me it’s certain

most definitely send salutations

Never hurt me……

Unless it is to know my place here on the hillside

Unless…this is useless

Maybe I assume more than I should…

This could be bad in terms of dropping frequencies

This is an energy emergency

An outage,

If so….

Call Rocky Mountain Power

They’ll muscle right away

But how to know asystole?

In fearing… stash pink sequined hats

Move fast the part… or be found out

Lacking permission for trespass

Quickly haunching,

Gutter hugging down the spillway

where half a dozen men are all….still… fishing

I lay in wait in hiding.

Still. In trying to be a shebush.

Wishing to attract fish stories.

No catch.

Yes! Law of Attraction says

They’re not still! They stir.  They fuss.

They must!  Like little boys with sticks,

Their joy! They kick, and flick and tag at trout

finessing dinner out and into fying pans

until they’ve met their limit.

Merhaps I could be this as well…


“She is a close relation and has scaley hands.”

But not Palmolive brand 🙂

Or should I stick and bob more sensible things

I want to know. I need to grow.

And so……

What! I’m looking for the secret to King Salmon in the suds

What a dud!

In all his valored widsom will not divide the baby up

Won’t fillet and grill him

the spices still in Mahli til the rainy season

For micro (waved) invested reasons

While down the trail

A spray of leggy hoppers fan through foxtails

As wind shuts two less known familiars…


They hold me in abeyance. “Wait!” they say


I will jump the fence or squeeze through as I like

Tresspassing black and white

splitting atoms in gray half-life,

And like a little snooping kid -ride hokey pokey

And like the trusted bike, she knows me and still holds me


for miles and miles with love’s soft spoke-en purrings

The fish has got away, the line is broken

The school has changed her course

Rekeyed, outsourced

and I’m the one in need…. of different keys

Quarters, to ride the big white Andalusian horses

Tickets to run the carrosel

I understand both choice and voice quite well

The wisdom of power not force

And resonating higher frequencies

But I don’t have to like the lower sort

No fun in thinking you think me a fool

And so it’s back to school

New tires and fins or not….

There is a Cost in going with this current

And like a fish I must not fight

The hook will set much deeper

It simply is, and so I write

in loving right, love comes much more easily

Easily equipped

You’ve slipped away to other seas

Rotated in a jiffy, lubed and gone…

On childlike knees you’ll kneel in other places

Play other spaces,

Lighting other faces

Unlocking summer

and life is fine.



About hrobertson2013

“Each man ( and mermaid) will be like a shelter from the wind and a refuge from the storm, like streams of water in the desert and the shadow of a great rock in a thirsty land”. Isa 32:2 NIV Warning: The author of this blog is not an ordinary individual. Even Mermaids need a rest from all that's real and grown up. Welcome to the wonder of blog. Come be audience to all that's wet and wild in her stories, poems and thoughts. Instructor by day, super hero by night, and mystical mermaid by summer. Whenever she has the fortune of diving into a pond, reservoir, or mountain waterfall, you'll find her there swimming, and singing songs of life.
This entry was posted in The Pond. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Where to begin in friending?

  1. J T Weaver says:

    This is double posted.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s