As evening falls a cricket creaks
On the crisp crest of night alone
And waiting in the moonlight.
His heart listens.

My heart listens.
I hear a frog singing on the bank,
See the sunlight filtering down,

There are miracles all around.
Who needs mysticism in life?
For life is miraculous enough,
And therein lies the mystery.

An orange fog
Descends on the land
Grabbing at it with
An aged orange hand
It will choke the life out
Of you and out of me
Hindsight is 20/20
Unfortunately

The scissors marched across her forehead;
When Mommy stuck her head in
Baby Girl said

"Not now Mommy. I'm cutting my hair."

And sure enough, the horror was true.
Baby Girl's hair lay there on the floor
In little tufts of such pretty curls.

A tear rolled down Mommy's cheeks like a tiny pearl.

The silence passed between the two
As a mist encircled like a glove,
Fingers reaching for something.  Love?

One cut through the void with few words.
And a weight fell from off their chests like feathers
Floating down and filling the space between;

As these words broke through, "I love you.  
I love you, Dad."

Someday soon
He's gonna ride up
On a hog; it was a Norton,

Actually.

I will jump on the back.
Away we will ride into
Our history.

Actually. . .

Here,
In this womby-tomby

Safety of my coverings
I begin to realize,

I don't want to remain unborn.

Ah, that stolen kiss. Motivated from the purest
Innocence, which turned to secret delight. Captured
On friendly lips. It was not your intent

To steal an electric moment. But, oh, the shock
Of fleshly desire. We could speak
Of it. Never.

I see the hint glinting in your eye
To repeat mistaken affection.
I will offer only my friendly face.