Olive ezine

Plump green olive
soaked in brine,
glistening sleekly,
a clue sublime
of tangy mouth
pizzazz divine.
Abundant fruit
of ancient time,
meet your fate
and be mine!

Darker cousin
of the brine,
black and wrinkled
in bed with lime,
an aquired taste
I opine.
Puckered cheeks
will bring to rhyme
salty pickles
preserved in ezine.

The Panther

A panther came into my dreams last night,
Prancing its fineness before me.
It padded slowly around the coffee table,
Turned its cold eyes on me, and posed like pharaoh’s cat.
Soft and still, it sat staring at me -
I stared back.

A panther came into my dreams last night,
Touching my world with its strangeness.
Gracefully glossy, it paraded its difference before me,
Sniffed at my leg and the chair with equal interest.
Quietly indifferent, it sat and groomed itself -
And ignored me.

A panther came into my dreams last night,
Bringing the green jungle with it.
The damp air of deepest shadow chilled the room
Suspending me in frozen animation.
The panther stretched and yawned a wide, pink yawn -
And warmed me.