Riviera Village Poem by Michael Walkerjohn

Quietly
and, ever so
quickly; this Season'
Spring does fill the failing
waning winter' weakness. With
this, the calm; of a shining ‘SoCal' sun
radiantly enlightens the moment; in the village.
One defining, calming, needed, issue of tranquility
is, for one brief moment… Then this damned
phone rings! It, only a ten dollar flip top
minutes paid up on the fly, wishing I
could simply do the same; pop up
and fly up above the fray into
the essence of this façade, this
panoramic view before me; and
all of the tranquility within this small
village, rests upon my consciousness on
the corner that supports my favorite "Cartel"
and that houses the French Connection, for the
best pastries this side of Heaven! Not to mention
homemade ice cream! What a dream! Bringing back
fond memories of Summer times splendor. When hand
churned ice cream reigned, bonfires and Japanese hornets
blazed, tobacco worms played with me, and I was that boy
who carried the strung, and hung, on a stick leaf… to the
barn master. And watched as he gently cradled each
leaf filled stick in his arms and lifted it firmly into
it's place… However; I digress, somewhat so
intentionally; mentioning what has passed
before me. And then, I look, up into the
easy SoCal sun; and smile at my brother.