The Heavens

Full moon in tow, I jig in its light
This means one thing,
It is time to reap what I sowed.

Rays of moonlight filter through the smoky
Haze of smoke trailing up from my pipe,
It’s hard to jig whilst a lit pipe jostles amongst my teeth.
Nonetheless I have made my sacrifice of sweet,
Virginian tobacco to the heavenly moon goddess
To a good harvest, I pray.

Fire and brimstones not quite just yet

The lackluster days this has become dredges something fearful and funny inside. It’s all I can do to restrain myself from laughing like a maniacal madman. Call it moon voodoo or whatever you like, but these are trying times. Though no where near close to be considered friends, this uppity and whimsical character, went prematurely South for the Winter, far from its home on Wall Street. Some say, nay, it went South far much later than originally predicted. In any case, it’s good to be short in these times, especially if you’re into selling.

Candy-colored moon-lips on a Belgian waffle

Too many times things go hay-wire before someone grabs the reigns and keels the proverbial, “Woah!” By then, it’s too late, and we’re looking at the poor, unassuming guy with banana crème pie oozing down his face. Of course, it’s a lot easier for us to see the humor in it. After all, WE saw it coming. I mean, I saw it coming. That is why I stepped aside with my tongue sticking out, hoping to graze some of the banana crème as it whizzed by. I imagine it would taste better that way. But that’s not to say that everyone was as fortunate as I was. Who knows, maybe they were distracted by the m&m in red, high-heels strutting by. Personally, I wouldn’t mind the distraction of a nicely crisped Belgian waffle, strawberries on top, with a dash of whip cream to give it shape. Then again, some would like nothing better to see that m&m, red high-heels and all, doing the Cancan on said Belgian waffle. Too many distractions, especially if it means being faced with a flying pie.

Pumpkin Pie

The mere thought of pumpkin pie can cause an interminable yearning. As if hibernating the year until around Thanksgiving, showing its sweet, spicy self for a few weeks, the elusive pumpkin pie goes back into its place in cookbooks until around the same time the following year. By far my greatest weakness, I can hardly ever pass up pumpkin pie. Between its soft texture, and the flavors swirling around in my mouth, pumpkin pie conjures up a warm, sweet sensation through all my synaptic nodes. This past weekend was like pumpkin pie. In fact, nearly this past whole month has been something like pumpkin pie. I think I have found the secret to pumpkin pie. Hehe!