I see, I see, I spy with my little eye...
A blue sky with distant, penciled-in clouds.
A row of ducklings all a-trundle.
A huddle on the lawn of shirtless frat boys, dangling a love-song played on a guitar as bait.
Not for me, of course; I'm respectable, married, and babied now. I'd get an 'afternoon, ma'am, can I help you with your groceries' before a 'hey baby' from those fellas.
And that suits me just fine.
I see rows and rows at the supermarket of shiny, precious things.
Peaches and nectarines. Cherries and apricots. Rhubarb and asparagus.
And greens, greens, glorious greens, with stems colored like fish scales.
I'll cook them up like my daddy taught me, sauteed in water til they go limp. Then sprinkled with vinegar and salt.
Simple. It's time for simple meals. They don't need much dressing up, because there's so little you can do to improve them.
Just enjoy it.