Friday, April 6, 2018


by Jen Hunt, after staying at the Watts Carmel home

A mostly guilt-free bacchanal
Of art, for sale and free-to-all
Ne’er too cold; ne’er too hot
Scenic views grace every spot
Gentle winds float sea air smells
Soft rains yield to sunny spells
Soon every nerve is smoothed and sauna-d
By enchanting food and fauna
What, if anything, could it lack?
Nothing--save a poet’s shack
Enamored with this bungalow
Like April fools we come and go

Not yet a grandmother

by Jen Hunt

To my imagined future grandson, Theophilus
I thank God you are not a rhinoceros