“Sometimes, more often so these days not, the kid in me jumps forward and straight into the puddle!” Gun Roswell
Overflowing with water Are the puddles after rain Leaving many and big a stain Where ever the water for a while remains
Jumping, jumping, jumping out of joy Like a kid again, shouting loudly”Ahoy!” Splashing water all around Everywhere , all over the ground
September may be the month of rain Causing the summer lovers a lot of pain But, luckily, the season of sun will come again So keeping on puddle jumping until then
“They’re nature’s way of giving you the notion of time, the bells made of flowers, ringing, every single hour (except if there is no wind)” Gun Roswell
Slay bells a ringing? It’s summer time: Can’t touch this…
Purple flowers, They are totally gorgeous Telling the time? Perhaps not
“Nature is still the best bet for any chance of peace, colour and perhaps fun?” Gun Roswell
Sitting on a swing Not worrying about a thing Enjoying the simple life Without a stinger or a strife The air almost like silk Time slowly passing by Not one trouble in sight
Observing, watching, looking What is nearby cooking
The hedgehog sipping it’s milk The squirrel with it’s tail high A bird gliding in mid flight The flowers in the wind crooking
The clouds hanging softly in the sky Exhaling, letting out a sigh The last rays of sun on the skin What a perfect fin For a July summer’s day The grass in a gentle sway
“A calm, cloudy, and rather sunny Sunday (surprise!) what a contradiction indeed! As usually, when Sunday arrives, so does the cold weather and the rain, right?!” Gun Roswell
When the Sunday time, loudly, its present chimed We ran, like we were on fire, out there, from the dire Into the open wild nature, with colours so lush There really was no need for any kind of rush To enjoy the art work devised by our beloved Mother Nature Was there for everyone to see, without any kind of fee
But we ran, as fast as any one can, really For you see, there was somewhere else we wanted to be, really Beside the calm and cooling waters, fooling around like a bunch of sea otters We made our way, discarding all clothing, falling where ever they may Splashing into the soft waves, letting the healing waters save Ourselves in the process, as this was the place for us, the total bliss
We played and frolicked, until the darkness descended we stayed Then only, reaching for the softest of sands, lending each other a hand To find the discarded garments, a little dirty, maybe even sandy, was a mild statement But nobody cared, as it had all been time so well spent Out here, on the beach, on this summer’s Sunday we had reached And if we were to be lucky, maybe next weekend, we could come back again
The tiny wooden made shack, by the seashore stands, sideways slacked It’s really not much to look at, just a few odd planks together stacked But for the one that built it, this little house, might just be, the perfect fit A summer’s cottage, or a simple, almost a tent type thing, on the beach sits
Alas, the rough and unforgiving autumn winds soon will fall Upon each and every single plane, even up, to this remote shore If the tiny summer cottage will the beating of weather’s wrath survive Then come next spring, the dweller will have a place to return just fine
But, until that time, the sun will still shine The clear blue waters and even the skies Will be totally able to provide The needed light and warmth to get by Here in the tiny beach house, oh so divine
“Nothing but the wind on my back and the sun on my face as I set sail to vistas unknown” Gun Roswell
Even on the cloudiest of days I will not for long in a dismayed state stay As I step outside into the calming beach I am greeted by a cooling breeze Nothing is more invigorating than the sea Cool blues as far as my eyes can see Even if I choose to just hang around Take my place on the rocky ground Or if I am feeling daring and adventurous I can set sail to the open waves In my small dingy of a boat with sails I feel great, alive and most of all I am spending the best of a summers time, at the seashore And soon enough, even the sun cones out Making this day too, perfect all around
“Even the smallest flower, has the power!” Gun Roswell
A bunch of flowers (it’s summer after all!)
Sitting, quietly, even prettily In the green grass, so waste Looking more, like a pool so long Continued, to infinity and beyond
The total power, of summer Grew up, with the answer Of what is, the meaning of it all Nothing, but flowers of course
Soft, bright, gorgeous, smelly little things Which will make your heart openly sing Colours, odours, can be all yours For a moment at least, consider a lease
Rantings Of A Third Kind 
