loose gravel crunching loudly beneath me transposes
into the soft thudding of my feet against the soil.
the meadow, my old friend, greets me
with a whispering wind. we are both happy.

the sun dips just below the horizon,
watercoloring the sky in lilacs and siennas.
cicadas converse around me, as I am
but a guest at their lovely hillside home.

the cotton-swab clouds part, and the moon debuts.
she is pure, unsullied radiance. with the stars as backup,
and the sky as her stage, she pirouettes, beginning
her nightly routine. tears glide down my cheeks.

rich plums of dusk fade into the dark navies of night,
and my head sinks into pillowy grass.
my eyelids become lead, and the sandman arrives.
everything is quiet, and this peace is eternal.

Leaning into the bud of the night
                      the moon is still wake
                           tonight sleep no one!

Ask me not why?
     Narrative is the tuberose's
                             and the fireflies'
                                    me too is wake!

Out of an abundance of caution
We shelter in place,
And if you try to leave your house
You get sprayed with mace.

Active shooter situations
Only to discover that  nobody is home,
Locking down an entire neighborhood
Now that’s some crazy foam.

A lot of terms of our times
Are all about control,
Contain the population and the narrative
Then hide it in a hole.

We’re all in this together
If we each play our part,
That rarely works out……...
Because one bad apple
Can upset the apple cart.

There’s a light at the end of the tunnel
Yes, things are on the mend,
The narrative is under control
Until the last page; “The End”.

I don’t think it was ever supposed to happen this way. We met at the same time as the world started to go insane.

I don’t remember giving you permission to rummage though my brain until you found the light and switched it off. You were never supposed to do that X, you were never supposed to light a fire inside my stomach. I am burning, I am burning, and I was never meant to be burnt. You went John Darrel on me, and now I don’t know where to hide. X, you were supposed to share the flowers in my garden, but I guess you never understood what that meant. It makes sense, because even when I was hungry, you took away the scraps. You found home in my sadness, and X you know that’s not right, you know.

X, I am burning, I am burning and you’re supposed to put me out, where is the hose X? Where is the extinguisher? Did you swallow all the water to quench your thirst, did you drain the dams into your blue water bottle for your walk back home? And leave me here, burning?

At this point, I’m unsure of what to think. I am scared of being this alone, yet I am more scared of being by your side and loosing you at the same time.

Is this who you are? Jumping into peoples arms until the weight has pushed them into the ground, stuck. I never saw you as an acrobat but it seems like you never want to come down and touch ground.

But X, love, you might jump fast, you might even learn how to fly. But fire spreads, and I am burning, and everyone knows what happens to a forest when the flint is hit – it becomes wildfire.

as mysterious as the moon
you're a moment that ends so soon
still waiting even at noon
in that summer at june

your shadow upon the night
blinded my very sight
and in return i gave my light
though i know its quite not right

in dim light they both embraced
like it's their last, like they're in haste
the moon which the light chased
in this moment, they both graced