Saturday April 9th, 2011

The exercise:

A four line poem about: dessert.

Another beautiful day spent outside. We almost had dinner outside, but the sun dipped below the mountains just as the food was about ready and the temperature dropped quite rapidly. Soon though, soon we will eat dinner outside again. For now, lunch will do.

I keep forgetting to mention: Sir Phillip has been spotted around our place quite a lot the last several days. And he's not alone! It seem he has acquired a lady friend.

Who happens to be the same shade of brown as the earth around here. And happens to sound like a bloody jumbo jet when she is startled into flight. Which has happened twice already. I think my heart has almost recovered, but it surely cannot take much more of that.


Pumpkin pie,
With a pecan crust?
Another slice?
Well, if I must.


Greg said...

Oh cool, so you'll be hearing the patter of little pheasant feet soon then? Or the rustle of little pheasant wings, or whatever the appropriate term is.
The pie sounds lovely, is that what you had for dessert last night?

The waiter with the pavlova
Collided with one with the coffee,
As I wiped cream from my pullover,
My wife said that she preferred tea.

Marc said...

Greg - it was indeed. Kat baked it up yesterday afternoon. It has since been completely devoured.

The wife preferred tea on her pavlova? Hmm, not sure about that :P