How clever is the subtle Stellar Jay
who clamors loud on swaying autumn's branch
and never sings of summer's fair embrace,
nor daydreams of the trysts of spring's last chance.

Yet eyes so sharp the jeweled beetle under bark;
snaps him up, pries her beak once more beneath the bark.

If wind
would have known
could have gone
another way around
if I had not been too soon, too late
to hesitate or let myself go - unbound
piled, buried too late to be found
if I'd not have stayed away far too long
yours would be a place
I still call home

She plays her games
on her tablet
in the living room
with the TV on
for noise;
he sits quiet
tapping at his keyboard
in the spare room.
She's put a load
of laundry
in the dryer;
he has pizza dough
rising in the oven.
Warm uncharged atmosphere
of peace aerates
the real estate in between.
Its fertile soil
allows the grandchildren
to set roots
undisturbed
by domestic drama
and tween-age traumas.

Hope rarely flies straight;
it flutters and weaves
like a butterfly
in a stiff breeze,
sometimes making headway,
sometimes blown off course,
sometimes interrupted,
but never completely
disappearing;
always present,
always whispering:
maybe.
- mce

I can't see myself as a whole without going just a trifle mad.