Photographic Memory Expedition

One would ask, “Wouldn’t it be lovely?”
Driving down gridded streets that sometimes wound East, then South.
Thinking of shutters painted contrasting colors, or perhaps altogether removed.

One imagines children’s summertime voices.
Carefree and popsicle glee, front sidewalks their territory.
As it should be.

One seems perfect there.
Small and yellow, with miles and miles of welcome.
Surely big enough for whatever weather.

Ne’er

It's late afternoon
So the clowns have come out
The clowns and their clouds have come out

Juggling the truth
Denying the light
Sure that they'll not lose the fight

I own afternoon
And ev'ning and morn'
In armor, I'm clad to the bone

It's late now, for you
So clowns take your clouds
Back to your faint-hearted home

Yellow like ButtercupĀ 

Yoga class
A dark, dark street
At the end of the line, please, please, please
My first Home
A Trek not for the faint
The seat of power 
Christmas but not really
Where the mountains meet the sea
At school one day on a lark
Christmas for real this time
New Year’s for sure
With a porch swing
In the mailbox 
Around every corner
God knows where else I’ve forgotten 
I grew honest 
I grew proud
He was there and you were where?

Fireflies’ Lives

In the tiniest of places
I know where to find
The silly at heart
So lovely, so kind

Throughout the day
The feeding of souls
In a lemon-yellow room
They do dine and reach goals

A breezy tree fort
Where they learn their true names
During made-up mysteries
While good fun stakes its claim

In a south-facing cove
At the end of the day
See them nurture the Earth
Helping love find its way