Shooting The Breeze Poem by Mark Heathcote

It's another cold and lazy day with placid eyes
shooting-the-breeze but darling
we're too fearful, to venture, go outside.
Coffee is brewing, the porch swing has-stopped-swinging
the dog is running through the twilight pines
but we won't venture into the backyard
cold as a frozen sea, a leaden heart
but I promise you, that is no way me.
I'm as sunny, as the top of a cloud raining in your hair.
That is me.
Owls are hooting with violet eyes.
I guess that's how you look at me.
When lightning, lights-up the skies.