I made a wrong turn
traveled down the line

I made a stop at the bakery store
came out leaving my bag inside

I marched up the golden path
thadt Dorothy and her friends had took

Chatted with the fairy and
kissed a frog, too

I dived into the sea
saw the ruins of the ship

I mourned the losses and cried
at the sight of coral, white

I evaporated into a mist
enveloped the clouds,
danced with the hymns
sang with the hounds

Until I landed back to bed
out of breath
and sighed,

"what a wonderful world
to find"

The light I see
isn't the sun's kisses
or the dancing artificial lights
strung from post to post
on your back yard

It's the smile of a young one,
it's the bashfulness of a teen.
The wise grin of a senior
and the dancing of the willow trees.

It's in your bright, dark eyes.
Your soot-covered white shoes.
The fresh power of the season
and the heart that you unfold.

It's in everyday mysteries
riddles, histories.
The puppy from the shelter,
the sweat of a med worker.

The dying but strong gleaming eyes
of a strong lad sick in bed
no one in his family can be there
but the nurse, his senior by decades
is right next to him, close
enough for
warmth

In the drops of dew on the shards of green
the broken but perfect pottery on the swinging chair.

A white butterfly perched
on the tipping plastic cup
discarded in a field.

Light is "light", it
may depend on what we say

That foot
goes over there
Arm tilted here
Chin up, square up

Pounce, bounce
Swish, swoosh
Feet squeaks against the greasy floor

The ball drips with sweat
jostle, muscled

arms tauter than string
or rope

she reaches, dances, jumps, SCORES

twenty-FIVE    toooo    sevenTEEN
blares, the ref, roars

citizens -1, netizens - none

The fire jabbed at the night
trying to find something to hold
it tasted the fresh air
and tried
to find
more sparks to throw

But wood is wood
and fire is fire

when the rest of it burned and died,

the fire lasted but a spark longer