In my own little world fireflies stay in open jars
Flowers paint on their colors for the next day,
And the moon laughs while it walks away.
The trees speak of ancient scars,
The creek brings up lost trinkets from afar,
And the animals cry for freedom,
But freedom is not free.

Bury the hurt
to get over the pain
As memory relines
with forgiveness again

Bury the past
for new light to break through
With darkness abandoned
—your spirit anew


(Las Vegas: January, 2022)

Dinner by candlelight
underneath the stairs, down
in the bomb shelter,
dancing to love, peace, and paranoia.
An evening called quiet
resentment, where there's
canned goods and children's games,
Duck & Cover,
or if you prefer,
Heimlich Maneuver.
Then little sleepy heads
go gently into their bunkered beds.
They might not outlive
the threat, but
the plan has a half-life of a chance.