She called it a perfect afternoon
we had just left a poetry reading
and were enjoying our coffees
on a café couch beneath a red umbrella
slightly shaded from the hot Florida sun.

We were reading some of the short ones
from a thick book of Octavio Paz poems
that she had just purchased
to compensate the bookstore owner
for hosting such a fine event.

Very quickly it became apparent
that dear Octavio had a thing for
the word quiver which he used
multiple times across a few of the
early poems at the front of the book.

She said she really liked that word
which of course set me all aquiver
so I had no choice but to write her
this poem that I knew she would like
because it uses a word she likes.

And because she also confessed
she likes the shorter ones the best
I will resist getting too carried away –
unless I have done so already –
and I will end it, right here right now.

Image credit:Thijs Paanakker

Mike is pleasantly retired and lives quietly with his much, much better half, Erica, and three cats (Gus the dog passed away a few months back, but still deserves mentioning) on a tiny suburban spread outside Tampa, Florida. He has a handful of publishing credits to his name, nothing to write home about. He takes long suburban walks, reads a lot of poetry, writes a few here and there. Looks forward to sunrise, appreciates a good sunset, and does the grocery run every week. The basic stuff. Life is good.