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May 2024
HP Poet: Melancholy of Innocence
Age: 59
Country: India


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Melan. Please tell us about your background?

Melancholy of Innocence: "My name is Raj / Melan (as on HP). I am an Architect and Urban Planner with a MBA. I unsuccessfully pursued Doctorate (twice), but due to circumstances - could not complete it. I have worked with several International Non-Profit Development Organizations and Projects. While living in Amsterdam (Holland) for 4 years I was International Development Manager in-charge of ten-countries of the world – Oceania (Australia, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea), South-East Asia (Indonesia, Thailand, Philippines), Spain, Russia, Belgium, United Kingdom and Chile. And for separate projects I have lived for more than 6 months in Bangkok (Thailand) and Accra (Ghana). I have travelled to more than 40+ countries."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Melancholy of Innocence: "The first vivid memory of mine that I can call as a poem was when I was 8 years old. I had gone to my Mom’s office picnic tour for 2-days and there I had met someone of similar age of opposite gender. On coming back, whose name I wrote “three” times (one below the other in 3 different fonts) on the last page of my school notebook. I consider that as my first LOVE-poem. My first form of “identifiable” poetry was at the age of 13 years. It was about doing “morning household chores” and helping my Mom so that she can reach her office on time. After a very long break, it was only when my BELOVED inspired me to become member of Hello Poetry, I did so in 2016 and started writing serious poetry. I have 23 books (fiction, non-fiction, poetry) self-published on Amazon."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Melancholy of Innocence: "LOVE surely inspires me. Being in LOVE makes me feel - live and breathe in PEACE. Poetry happens to me when without knowledge amidst mundane incidences of life – like, while taking bath or wearing clothes, standing in front of a mirror, reading some story/poem/article/lyrics, watching an interviews/movies/songs, listening to music OR just by observing the way people behave, express themselves, their ****** expressions, their mannerisms, smiles/sorrows/laughter/giggles; the way they walk, turn and look around them, stand, sit that always reminds me of my BELOVED. I also always make it a point to peep out from my home balcony / window seeking a glimpse of sunrise/sunset, moon/stars, birds, clouds, feeling breeze on our skin, blooming flowers, bees, insects etc. and many more things…! Basically, I think I get inspired by something that touches me deep inside and reminds me of my BELOVED. I immediately experience the realization of “I being in deep true pure eternal LOVE” in our heart and soul. That’s how poetry happens to me."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Melancholy of Innocence: "Poetry is a true expression of how exactly I feel inside me at that very particular moment of time and I try to be as honest as possible in expressing it with words that communicates my true and pure feelings of LOVE to my BELOVED."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Melancholy of Innocence: "Rumi, Omar Khayyam, Ghalib, Tagore, Neruda, Pushkin, Kabeer, Jayadeva, all enlightened Sufi fakeers and many more contemporary lyricists."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Melancholy of Innocence: "I like to read. Now a days I read in digital format anything that catches my interest ) text books, non-fictions, literary-award-winning books, biographies. etc. I like to draw, paint, sketch, do photography, do exercise, play sports, watch movies, serials etc. I even have written full-feature movie-scripts. I try to download and listen to all songs of music my BELOVED likes and sometimes recommends me. I like to do simple household chores (sweep/swab the house, clean the toilets etc.), do mundane shopping errands, cleaning and arranging things around me, I love to sit and observe things – “Nature”; and especially common everyday people and wonder about their childhood years and their life’s journey. I like to introspect a lot and question my own thoughts – making sure I do not get convinced and/or imprisoned by anything (beliefs, rituals, superstitions, views, thoughts, religion, philosophy, “..isms” and “so-called” TRUTHS) that I may have come across - seen, read or heard. I am very uncomfortable and vary of building identities of I, me, my, mine, myself…"


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for allowing us this opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet, Melan! We are honored to include you in this ongoing series!”



Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Melan a little bit better. I surely did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #16 in June!

~
Whoop's!
I fell back to sleep
I let the gravity take me
And knock me off my feet

It happens to the best of us
The lower self prevails
Stumbles back upon one foot
Face to face with hell!

This time Divinity awoke me
And saved me from my pride
Now I’m not afraid too live
And I’m not afraid to die!
🧳  TT
Take heed, the earth is unforgiving
and can be as potent, subtle,
as poison.
Each gift it has given, rejoice,
for it is unafraid
to take back what it rightfully owns.
Man may say that it controls
the Earth, its resources–
torrents–monumental, crashing–
beg to differ.
We offer our condolences
to an already deafened sky.
Promises to “do better next time.”
Our earth, the stern father
that it is, does not waver.
Instead, slick, clean window panes are beaten
by a downpour, and
asphalt with the thirst of its cracks
quenched are all that we receive.
Field upon field with more moisture
than it can bear.
Who were we not to revere this land,
we who apologize as beauty betrays.
Can we live beside Evil,
Can't we just get along?
Can't we turn it a little
Using Music and Song?

Must we face it and name it,
Call it wrong to its face?
Must we risk our own comfort?
Can't we stay in our place?
Mid-night Meditations
Go along to get along?
Do you treasure
perplexity
strive to confuse
doubting the obvious
pandering the ruse

Do you live inside
cloud cover
avoiding the sun
exposure avoided
your fear on the run

Do you hide
behind bombast
the panderer’s lie
your costumes unchanging
as truth you deny

Do you wander
left aimless
your ego unbound
to cry from the wasteland
— bereft and unfound

(County Line: April, 2024)
ads
The school year’s ending.  ‘Spring Fling’ is tonight (Saturday) the biggest event (concert) of the year, and next week - final exams. It’s hard to believe that I’ll be a senior in about 2 weeks - when the chips are counted, and junior year is cashed out.

I can remember sitting in my little covid-prison (childhood room), in 11th grade, thinking “If I don’t get out of here (and go to college), I’ll go crazy!” And here we are. My plan - my dreams - actually happened.

“Embrace your potential, celebrate your uniqueness, and explore the infinite possibilities of your future!
That bit of self-affirming encouragement was in an ad for Kosas concealer (makeup) - which, in a clever, psychological twist they call ‘revealer concealer.’ The stresses of finals weeks (2 weeks) can cause dark circles, breakouts, and other skin frustrations. A good concealer hides imperfections, so girls don’t look too human.
What do guys do??

Don’t get me wrong, I love advertising, the world needs advertising - I’m glad someone thought of it. How else could we learn about new things? I know I get excited when I try something new out and it works. If heaven, for instance, turns out to be ‘as advertised’ - I think we’ll all be happy.

poetically…
Our ancestors navigated their world by
stories of doomed lovers, troubled kings,
love triangles and magical beings.

In story we learned about loyalties,
the gods, mistaken identities and empathy.
In narratives, we labeled absolutes,
the world made sense and we defined truths.

Today, we’re wiser - we rely on advertisers.
We consume whims endlessly, like appetizers.
We’re blessed with consumerism and avarice,
for the new and exciting thing, we’re ravenous.


My school plans have changed. We must be flexible (I’m assured).
My mom’s research (she’s my personal oracle) clearly showed that Med-schools are taking longer to accept students these days.

So, we came up with a plan 'B' last August. The theory is that an MPH (Master of Public Health) program lasts 11 months and would give me something palpable to show (a master’s degree) for my time between Yale and med-school.

What’s another year of school, when the alternatives were laying on a beach in Saint Tropez or enjoying a Mafalda, Latte Macchiato while shopping in Geneva’s City Center? (my bf works for CERN)

Anyway, not thinking it would come to anything, I applied to several schools (last August), and yesterday I found out I’ve been accepted to Harvard’s summer 2025, MPH program. Color me apathetic, for now, I mean, isn't Harvard a step down? (I applied to Johns Hopkins and Emory University (in Atlanta) as we'll.)

I’d have just 3 weeks between graduating here (next year) and starting there. Ugg, how exciting (but is it?).
It’s important to believe, when we make plans, that if we apply ourselves, they'll go ‘as advertised.’
.
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(Summer, beach) songs for this:
Summer Dreaming by Harmony Grass
Girls on the Beach by Carter Cathcart
Please Let Me Wonder by Carter Cathcart
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: palpable: when something is obvious, tangible and notable.

Harvard, Yale, I know those names are known - almost mythically - but they’re just schools, like any other, where the wi-fi is questionable and there are no pencil sharpeners - anywhere.
It was January 4th 1778, and once again the General had not slept well. He rose before dawn and as was his practice, he wandered down to the southern banks of the Schuylkill River.  Valley Forge had been particularly cold since New Year’s Day, and he was awaiting any word about new supplies being smuggled out from the friends his Army still had in Philadelphia.

The Congress had recently been moved and sheltered in York which was about seventy miles due West of his current position in Valley Forge.  The British had taken Philadelphia and were rumored to be encamped in the heart of the city.  Many residents had fled the Capitol just before the British arrived.  Fresh off their success at the Battle of Brandywine, they did not receive the warm welcome that they were expecting when they entered the city.  According to European standards, when you capture the capitol city of your enemy, the war is then over.  The problem with Philadelphia however was that this was not Europe — and Washington was no ordinary General.

Standing alone by the river’s bank, the General thought he saw something move in the tall grass to his right.  His first instinct was to draw his cap and ball pistol, but for a reason unexplained, he did not.  He called out in the direction of the movement, but no sound was heard.  As he turned to walk back to his tent, he saw a branch move and heard the same sound again.  Slowly, a figure about six feet tall emerged from the river brush.  As he walked slowly toward where the General now stood, it was clear this was no combatant, either Colonial or British — this was an Indian.

He walked directly up to the now still Washington and extended his hand.  He said his name was Tamani, and he and his people were living on three of the islands located in the middle of the Schuylkill River about two miles East of where they were now. The Lenape were a branch of the Delaware Tribe that had originally migrated South from Labrador.  They had populated almost all of southeastern Pennsylvania and especially those lands that bordered the Delaware River.  

The British had inflicted tremendous cruelty on the Lenape during their march toward Philadelphia and had driven the entire tribe from almost all of their ancestral lands.  The Colonists had been much kinder and had in fact been interacting peacefully with the Lenape back to the time of William Penn.

Tamani spoke very good English, and General Washington knew how to ‘sign.’  Sign was the universal language spoken by almost all of the indian tribes and was conveyed with a complex series of hand gestures.  After Tamani saw that the General could understand his words, he discontinued his ‘signing.’  Tamani told the great American leader that his people had been driven from their native lands along the banks of the Delaware and were now in hiding inside the treeline of three remote islands just a short distance down the Schuylkill.  

They would leave and go ashore every night to hunt pheasant and deer but always be back before dawn so the British scouts would not discover them.  Tamani was bitter and angry about what the British had done to his people, and he was also upset that the British had commandeered many of the Colonists homes in the city. The displaced were now living in rustic shacks along the banks of both the Delaware and Schuylkill Rivers, and many of these Colonists were his friends.

General Washington asked Tamani if he had seen any British troops in the last several days.  Tamani said he had not and in fact had not seen any Red Coats any further west than Gladwyne or Conshohocken.   Washington asked Tamani how he could know this for sure.  Tamani said that he and his two sons knew of all British troop movements because there was a secret path on the other side of the river that ran all the way from Valley Forge to the falls at Gray’s Ferry.  Gray’s Ferry is where the British had a built a bridge that floats (Ferry) across the river this past winter, and it was their primary way to cross into the city from all directions South.

Washington was more than intrigued.  He asked Tamani how many members of his tribe knew about this secret trail.  Tamani said just he and his two sons.  Tamani had two sons and a daughter by his wife Wasonomi, but only the two boys had been down the 17-mile trail that paralleled the river on the far bank.  He also said that the trail could not be seen from the water because it was so heavily covered with native Sassafras and Poplars.

The dense brush made the northern bank impossible to see from either a boat or when viewed from a quarter mile away on the southern shore.  By keeping this trail a secret — Washington thought to himself — even the Indians knew that loose words sometimes trump the loudest canon.

Washington told Tamani that the only information he had received was from the few brave horse mounted scouts that had tried to infiltrate the city at night. They would then flee before morning with whatever local knowledge the remaining loyalists to the revolution could provide.  Lately, he had been losing more men than had been returning.  

Tamani told the General that by using the trail, he could pass totally unseen into the city on any night and return along the same route without the British noticing.  From where the trail ended at Grays Ferry, he and his oldest son had climbed the tall poplars and watched British troop movement both in and around the city.  The General now extended his own hand to Tamani and said: I need you to do something for me.

I need you to take me along this path and show me what you have seen. Tamani stood frozen for a moment as if he didn’t believe his own ears.  Here was the Great General of the American Army, the greatest general that he had ever heard of, wanting to make the 17-mile trip to Philadelphia virtually alone and unprotected by his troops.  Washington also told Tamani that he could tell no one of his plan.  

To ensure this, General Washington took the plume from his Tricorn Hat and presented it with great ceremony to Tamani.  He said: Tamani,  you and I are now brothers, and we must keep between us what only brothers know.  Tamani sensed the importance of the moment and handed Washington a small pouch from the breechcloth he was wearing.  Inside was the Totem of his family’s ancestry.  It was a small stone with a Turtle inscribed on one side and a spear on the other.  The General took the stone in both of his hands and placed it over his heart.  Both men agreed to meet again along the river’s bank at dawn of the second day.

For most of two days, Washington thought about his narrow escape at Brandywine and how these British had menaced him all along the Delaware River to this isolated field so far from where he wanted to be.  He had heard from one of his own scouts that there was British dissension within some of Howe’s troops, but he wanted to see firsthand what he might be facing.  At daybreak on the second day, he walked to the riverbank again.  This time he again saw no life or activity only a small fox with her yearling kits heading down the steep bank to drink.  

After twenty minutes, the General turned to walk away when he heard a whistle coming from the same bush as before.  He approached cautiously and there stood Tamani, but he was not alone.  He had two young men with him that looked to be about a year apart in age.   These are my two Sons, Miquon and Yaqueekhon, Tamani said, as he pointed downriver.  It is just the three of us who know the way along the river that leads to where your enemy sleeps.  Washington greeted both young braves by touching them on both shoulders and then turned to Tamani and said:.  I would like to take the path to the British, and I would like to take it tonight.

Tamani said that he and his two sons would be ready and waiting and that they could leave as soon as the sun was down.  Washington said he would like to leave earlier than that and that he would meet them where the river turns when it is the deer’s time to drink.  During the winter months that would roughly be 4:00 in the afternoon.   With that, the three native men turned away and disappeared into the trees.

Tonight, Washington would alert his men that he would be working and then sleeping at the Isaac Potts House, (better known as Washington’s Headquarters), instead of in his field tent which was his usual practice. He needed to be alone so he could slip away unnoticed along Valley Creek to where the Schuylkill turned and where he would then meet his three new friends.

The General had been spending most of his nights with his troops sleeping in his field tent high atop Mount Joy.  It was here that he was provided with the best views to the east toward Philadelphia.  He had felt guilty about sleeping in the big stone headquarters with the comfortable bed and fireplace for warmth when so many of his men froze.  Tonight though, there would be no sleep and no guarantee of what the morning might bring.  

With all the risk and challenge set before him, he approached it like every battle he had fought up until now.  This would be a fight for information and one that just possibly might allow him to formulate a timetable and a plan for his next attack.  He lit the candle in his bedroom window — as was his practice — and locked the door from the outside.  He then slipped out the side door of the big stone house and headed for the bank. It was now 3:45 in the afternoon and already starting to get dark.

As the General arrived at the bend in the river he saw two canoes pulled up on the bank and covered with branches of pine.  Standing off in the trees, about fifty feet from the two craft, were Tamani and his two sons.  Tamani greeted Washington as his brother.  He explained that they would take the two small boats downriver for what the whites called five miles, and then cross to the other side to begin their walk.

Washington was in a canoe with the older of Tamani’s two sons Miquon.  They paddled quietly for over an hour until Tamani ‘signed’ back something that Miquon quickly understood. From where they were now, on the right (south) side of the river, he signaled for them to head directly across the Schuylkill to the bank on the far side.  This was what the Delaware Tribe had always referred to as Conshohocken.  

As they reached the far bank, Tamani’s two sons quickly hid the canoes in the underbrush.  As Washington started to walk toward Tamani, Miquon took a satchel out of the first canoe and handed it to the General.  For your feet, said Miquon.  Washington opened the satchel and found a large pair of Indian leggings with Moccasins attached at the bottom.  These will help you to walk faster, said Tamani, as Washington sat on a log, removed his boots, and strapped them on.  In two more minutes, the four men were walking east on the hidden trail just ten feet from the north bank of the Schuylkill River.  They had 12 miles still to go, and the surrounding countryside and river were now almost totally covered in darkness.

I say almost, because there were a few flickering lights from lanterns on the far southern bank.  The four men listened for sounds, but heard nothing, as the lights faded and then disappeared as they progressed downstream.  Miquon told his father that they needed to get to the British War Dance before the moon had passed overhead (roughly midnight), and his father grunted in agreement.  Washington wondered what this British War Dance could possibly be but figured that he would wait for a more appropriate time to ask that question.

For two hours, the four men walked in silence.  The only sounds that any of them heard were the breathing of the man in front and the ripples from the approaching current.  The occasional perch that jumped in the dark while hunting for food kept them alert and vigilant as they continued to visually scan the far bank. The going was slow in many places, but at least the terrain was flat and well worn down.  Someone used this path on a regular basis, and the General couldn’t help but wonder not only who that might be but when they had last used it.

Tamani stopped by a large clump of rocks at the river’s edge and reached behind the smallest of the boulders.  He pulled out a well-worn leather satchel and laid it on the ground in front of the other three men.  Miquon reached inside and handed a small ball which was lightly colored to the General.  Pinole, Miquon said as he placed it within Washington’s open hand. Pinole, you eat, Miquon said again.  Tamani looked at the slightly perplexed General and said, Pinole, it’s ground corn meal and good for energy, you eat!  With that, the General took a bite and was surprised that the taste was better than he had expected.  

They lingered for no longer than five minutes on the trail and were again quickly on their way.  Washington marveled at the speed and efficiency of his Indian guides and again thought to himself: "The Indian Nations would have been very hard to beat if they could ever have come together as one force.  We could learn much from them."

The moon was almost directly overhead when Tamani raised his right arm directing the others behind him to stop.  There were lights up ahead and voices could now be heard in the distance.  Tamani told the General: One more mile to ferry crossing.  With that they proceeded at a much slower pace while increasing the distance between each man.  Tamani and Miquon had made this trip many times, but this was the first time that Yaqueekhon had been this far.  For Washington, the feeling of being back in his beloved Capitol, coupled with his hatred of the British, had his senses at a high level.  He felt an acute awareness overtake him beyond that of any previous experience.

Looking across the river toward ‘Grays Ferry’ reminded Washington of the many times he had played along the Rappahannock River in Virginia as a boy.  He moved to ‘Ferry Farm’ in Virginia when he was still young and when his father Augustine had become the Managing Partner of the Accokeek Iron Furnace.  Those days along the Rappahannock were some of the happiest of his life, and he secretly longed for a time when he could mindlessly wander a river’s banks once again — but not tonight!

Miquon now pointed to a tall clump of trees directly ahead.  They were right along the river’s edge and there were large branches that protruded out as much as twenty feet over the water.  Tamani said: We climb.

From this location, the four men climbed two different trees to a height of over forty feet.  Once situated near the top they secured their packs, looked off toward the North, and waited.  From this position they could clearly see Market Street and all of the comings and goings in the center of town.  Washington noticed one thing that gave him pause … he didn’t see any British soldiers.  Tamani told the General in a hushed tone that almost all of the soldiers were in German’s Town (Germantown) with only a small detachment left in the center of the city for sentry duty and to watch.

Why Germantown Washington asked?  This had been the site of our last battle, and he was surprised more troops had not been positioned in the center of town to protect the Capitol.  Too much food and drink, Tamani said.  It took Washington a minute to process the words from before. The British War Dance.  The Indians also had a sense for satire and irony.

                               The British Had Been Celebrating

Is it possible, the General wondered, that the British could still be celebrating their last victory at the Battle of Germantown, and could they have let the King’s military protocol really slip that far? Washington knew that General Howe was under extreme criticism for his handling of the war so far, and there were rumors that he might now be headed back to England to defend himself before parliament.

                                    When The Cat’s Away …

Washington’s impression of what he was now facing immediately changed.  He believed he was now charged with defeating a British force that had tired and lost faith in the outcome of the war.  In their minds, if capturing the new American Capitol had not turned the tide, and men were willing to freeze and starve in an isolated woods rather than surrender, then this cause was almost certainly lost. In that mood they decided to party and celebrate in a fait accompli.

                           A Revolutionary ‘Fait Accompli

For three more hours, they observed Philadelphia in its vulnerable and seemingly de-militarized state.  Many of the houses were empty as the residents had left when the outcome of the Battle of Brandywine was made known.  Washington closed his eyes, and he could see Mr. Franklin walking down Market Street and talking with each person that he passed.  He then saw a vision from deep inside of himself showing that this scene would be recreated soon.  The British couldn’t last in the demoralized state that they were now in. He knew now that it was more important than ever, for he and his men, to make it through the rest of the long cold winter, and into the Spring campaign of 1778.

Washington signaled to Tamani that it was time to go.  Before he left, he asked if he could borrow the Chief’s knife.  After climbing down the big poplar, he walked around to the side of the tree that was facing Philadelphia and inscribed these immortal words  — WASHINGTON WAS HERE!

All the way back along the trail, Washington was a different man than before.  If he had ever had any doubts about the outcome of the war, they were now vanished from his mind.  He asked Tamani and his two sons if they would continue to monitor the trail for him on a weekly basis.  They said that they would,and would he please keep their secret about being encamped on the three islands in the middle of the Schuylkill River.  They also pledged their help as scouts, in the coming spring campaign, against what was left of the British.

Washington pledged both his secrecy and loyalty to the Lenape Tribe and continued to meet with Tamani along the banks of Valley Creek until the winter had finally ended.  The constant updating of information that Washington had originally seen with his own eyes allowed him to formulate a plan that would drive the British from the America’s forever.  He was forever grateful to the Lenape people, and together they kept a secret that has remained unknown to this very day.

With all the rumors of where he slept, or where he ate, there is one untold rumor that among Native People remains true.  Along a dark frozen riverbank, in the company of real Americans, the Father of Our Country stalked the enemy. And in doing so …

                                            He walked !



Kurt Philip Behm
Strip into segments the colours of life
At the birth of my sons, loving my wife,
Like the moment of truth when, whilst shivering clear,
I went eyeball to eyeball with that, which I fear.
Like the time when the engine went dead in the plane
And I ditched in the pines to confirm the insane.

When my Father collapsed and died in my arms
And childhood departed with God and his Psalms.
When I first kissed a girl’s soft velvety lips
And felt, the wild rapture of hands on her hips.
Discovered ripe apricots fresh from the tree
Taste sweeter than nectar collected by bee.

Felt the presence of death compellingly near
Though the body was wracked, the thinking was fear.
Climbed impossible peaks that I dreamt I perceived
To weep the hot tears of a life’s goal achieved.
Laughed loud and long with the wind in my hair
Yet wept when an enemy lost to despair.

Pondered the mystery of what’s round the bend
Concluded beginnings are part of the end.
Compiling the rules to maintain my space
Lie in keeping the oddballs out of my face.
Clasping friends, so few, to my breast
Embracing the true and to hell with the rest.

Committing my time to my one darling wife
And thanking the Gods for this colourful life!


Marshalg
Sitting in the long summer grasses
3 December 2012
An old nutmeg from another lifetime....deserves a reairing.
Sunrise was just a red line in the inky void, as Lisa and I reached the harbor decking stairs,
but at once, the brazen slash began widening, like a silent, slow motion explosion,  
thin, smoky wisps of cloud, like flammable tissue, prismed the stage light ignition.

bee-de-deep my phone chirped. It was Peter (my bf).
“Hey you,” I pronounced, as Lisa took off her left sneaker and shook it, upside-down.  
“How’s the harbor?” Peter asked. I glanced at my watch, it was 5:32 am in New Haven.
Peter must be at lunch (in Geneva) and tracking our morning run with the ‘Find My’ app.
“Beautiful,” I pronounced, “they’re really putting on a show.”
Of course, I meant the universe, the sun, the turns who were already at work, and Long Island Sound.
The gulls, perched on whatever, and grousing at each other, obviously haven’t had their coffee.
I read that AI had decoded bird talk and on a wire, they chittered, “Move over, you’re in my space.”

“Just wanted to say good morning,” Peter confessed, “Good Morning.”
“Good morning,” I wished back, “gotta go,” I replied, Lisa had finished de-pebbling her shoe.
“Yep,” Peter agreed, “Seee ya,” he quipped. “See ya,” I chuckled, smiling.
My watch asked, in my Air Podded ears, “Have you finished your workout?” because I was motionless.
I pressed the crown of my watch and slid the phone back in my pocket, our jogg’s only half done.

We began our harbor exodus, by turning our backs to the haven. It was already beginning to busy with boats.
We slipped on our hats and protective, polarized sunglasses as we began to run directly into the blazing sun.
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Songs for this:
Sail on Sailor by the Beach Boys
Dancing in the moonlight by Toploader
Cold Heart - PNAU Remix by Elton John, Dua Lipa, PNAU
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: Exodus: a departure or in the bible, a mass emigration situation.
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