Flickering

What does that flame upon your head symbolize?
Your suffering? The suffering of others?

The Holy Spirit?

That drive inside to place yourself
in the scene at every major and minor
last stand?

Jude

He's been away or
I've been out of contact,
which is more likely.

Maybe he's dead,
decomposing in some
storm drain, or
maybe that's just the smell of
my diminished returns.

Anyhow, we need you now,
Captain of the last ditch,
If never we did before,
we need you now.

I Can't Say Anymore

A day of inaction

thinking of the asteroid that nearly missed

and the climate reports rolling in from the North

and my kids growing, trying to find their ways

July 10, 2019

At 6am I woke to the alarm and a natural urge to urinate following a good night's sleep with the fan going and the slider open.

Walking past the screen and looking out, I found myself a few feet from a doe and her fawn who were both staring at me. We watched each other for a couple of minutes like that, and I talked quietly to them while I peed, but the sound of the trickle startled the fawn who made a little hop behind his/her mom. They faded slowly into the green leaves.

Good morning I said to the Snake Plant and the Bamboo perched closed to the window in the other room. New sprouts are breaking through in the Snake Plant's three inch pot. I think I'll need to repot it soon. 

There's still enough food for the hummingbirds, but I should probably change it out tomorrow because it's been pretty hot. I put two feeders up this year, and the pair in residence opt for the more private one. I think it's the same male -that single guy who was here last year - but he's remarried. I don't see them as much as I did that first year.  I guess they're a little more shy or maybe I'm a little less approachable.

Driving around the corner on my way to work, four or five baby cottontail rabbits scramble like the Keystone Cops to get out of the road.

Tonight the fireflies welcomed me home sparking just enough to let me know they are many and that I don't really live alone at all.

Not That Way

I don't even want to look at it. Cut the ropes and let it fall into the deep canyon below. The whole thing dangles from its tether, down the length of the opposite wall, obscured forever in fog.

Let's get out of here.