Evelyn Judy Buehler

March 18, 1953 - Chicago
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Daydream Drumbeat

I was a bed and mattress tester, a dream job like that of a yellow moon.
I tested the comfort of beds, pillows, etc., for night is ever coming soon.

I studied sleep patterns too, like vivid rainbow's colored, striped design.
I also appraised sleep products, as botanists do royal rose's genetic line.

I rated beds for luxury hotels, and mattresses for their medical benefits;
As grape butterflies keep blooms yielding, with ensuing riotous clematis.

Familiar faces of friends were welcome, in waning shadows of afternoon,
In fancy, fragrance hours of summer fever, when vivid petals are strewn.

Fervent family would fain see me frequently, like fireflies adore evening;
As fiery noon loves featured robin matinee, when the clouds are leaving.

I lived in the house of summer, where blooms told the story of their lives;
And midnight captured lace moon magic, like love which parting survives!

Silken scents were rampant on my street, as sapphire is prevalent to sky,
When Sweet Williams startled and stunned, in gorgeous shades gone awry.

Noiseless nightshade was climbing, in narcissistic, poisonous self defense,
When nostalgic neighbors called near dawn, for a break in plum suspense.

Skeleton flowers had become deceased, having made contact with water,
Then turning from white to transparent, like the red devil's only daughter!

'String of frogs' plants were jumping June, in summer joy, quite habitual;
And 'regal birdflowers' ruled gardens, green hummingbirds frozen in ritual.

My neighbor's child practiced the drums daily, and was quite good, actually;
Like the songbirds of amber high noon, singing the jade good life, factually.

As I sat besieged by summer one day, on my porch of dreams, I drowsed;
Like honeybees encased in sweetness, in rooms where liquid joy is housed.

The drumbeat of my neighbor's instrument, permeated my tranquil reverie;
And beautiful bluebirds sang in tune, strident notes of lazy, summer destiny.

Crimson butterflies also graced that vision, along with a fantasy of flowers,
In orange, pink, red and rich yellow, like heady optimism that never sours.

Hummingbirds and bees hummed along, with colors and sounds in motion,
As the east wind gyrated lustily, like a graceful ship upon an emerald ocean.

There was a quickening of my heartbeat, dancing to a wild summer dream;
Like the last purple rose of the season, with its onwards, marching regime!
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