Like so much folly and confetti the cherry blossoms are back and scattered in the grass,
for it is May and spring and I am a young man living in a rental, just 26.
There is a courtyard no one uses I have made my own,
as I’ve discovered the peace in this place and the art of making martinis, of drinking alone.
And I have made a practice of coming here when the days bleed into dusk,
to sit beneath the cherry tree with the blossoms falling in my glass.
Crossing the yard and balancing it on my knee, the martini with the pickled okra
the sweet vermouth, the chilled vodka I’ve come to love
it goes straight to your head and has some elegance it’s true,
the okra like a witch’s finger pointing, now I’m you!
So here I sit alone with my drink, a bachelor, at the base of this tree
and here I will remain a lifetime or more with no one, but me.
Bill Pearse 
Oddly enticing … I have waaaay too little alone time … I might substitute herbal tea but the scene truly reflects hours in my backyard back in my solo days after kids grown-departed & before finding 2nd husband. I had a 2-seater yard swing – if not raining, that’s where I’d be with tea, journal, maybe a book … periodically I’d glance at the seat beside me to see which cats were there [I had a bunch, only 3 or 4 fit at a time, they’d alternate sitting with me so subtly my awareness of “beyond” was uninterrupted.] I should write a poem, huh?
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You should write a poem on that Jazz, I like that image of you on the swing with the cats. It’s funny how certain scenes can trigger past memories isn’t it? I had that with the cherry blossoms yesterday and always think back to the time I described here, which is mixed, because it seems to signify when a long-standing drinking habit started. Good to work through these things, glad you’re willing to ride along. You can get out any time, the doors aren’t locked! Ha. Write your piece now please…put yourself back there why don’t you!
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Auesom you and your aspire mental break through
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Really nice, Bill. Nostalgia for aloneness. Significant thinking time. I had a similar spot under a tree, where I had Bloody Mary’s made with Stoli pepper vodka and would write stream-of-consciousness poetry–none of which survives to this day. I guess it’s like pianists playing scales.
It’s funny, as we get older, moments from our 20s and 30s take on higher symbolic meaning. What’s up with that?!
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Hey thanks for sitting with me under the tree Kevin and sharing your favorite drink too! I had my time with BMs myself, though later in life I took to doing them with gin. Eek-gads what an odd thing to consume in the mornings. Made sense at the time, like your (and my) writing as you describe. Congrats on launching your book on the eReader today!
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I love this. So many layers of sensation. I’m savouring the ‘elegance’ of that vermouth-chilled vodka hit in my brain. And the twilight falling and falling of cherry blossom in a courtyard where no one else comes.
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So glad to hear Tish, thanks for letting me know! I’m sucker for the cherry blossoms. And once the same for drinks with odd garnishes. Be well!
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I love this, its rhythm and tone. And with a twist of dry humour, which sharpens it just right.
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I love that you’re writing and posting pomes now yourself! And I love calling them pomes, sorry that’s stupid but by now you know me. Thanks David!
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Thanks Bill.
I am jiggering around with a 17 syllable tribute to you and Bruce for the consistency, range, content, entertainment value and courage of your writing over years and to Carl for his lovely photos and Haiku, which somehow drew me to the Senryu form that finally motivated me to put finger to phone.
That’s more than 17, isn’t it?
Cheers
DD
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That’s so cool. Love it, you’re a rock star man.
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It sounds like you were a bit of a Shropshire lad at the time, hanging out under the cherry tree hung with snow, although there are also shades of Manhattan here in spite of the pickled okra. In spite of the sadness there’s a nice blend here of both the country and the cosmopolitan.
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Look at you with the cocktail references, that’s great! Manhattan and cosmopolitan, ha. I didn’t drink liquor too-too much but it probably was my portal into a daily habit. So it goes…thanks for this Christopher. Feels like some Greek myth that wasn’t written, condemned to a life sitting at the base of a cherry tree unable to get up.
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