When I was six years old
I bet my mother couldn't I fly?
And why not grow
wings, feathers, and fly
with so much sky
all around.
And when I was seven, well child?
Why so low?
And why not be low
with so much ground
so low and earth so cold
between toes.
I could only grow
wings so fast you know.
And when I was nine, mother braids
my hair.
Hold still for a second,
you're not going anywhere?
I couldn't care about hair
when it was everywhere
So was I, so fair,
going anywhere.
And when I was twelve,
oh my
how I wished I could fly
and again and again
I was
I was
I was
When I was
Wished
to fly
And why not fly with so much sky?

A Flash

Traveled to Ireland this spring...

Thought I'd share.

rain and cloud days, always

and ocean breezes biting

and everything is green.

Irish doors

beauty in stone and glass

grace...

art, thought on walls in Belfast

and Galway

everywhere.

great institutions, overcome by vines

ruins, worn by time.

she stands protecting

holding out her hands.

Come.

Love and Buzzing

there is an abundance of love on the lake

and buzzing

...

the 

dragonflies 

are 

mating

Everywhere, they 

flit 

and 

flirt

and 

dive

and 

rocket

and 

roller coaster 

along

like 

arial acrobats!

I discover that they are

like ghosts that can't 

     be

- photographed -

...

a few pose for me

I press down on the shutters

only to find they are no

longer in the picture

funny, huh?

Mr. and Mrs. Mallard 

drop in for a visit

they don't see what all the fuss is about ...

they have a much more relaxed

relationship

they nibble on plants

because they like

to stay trim

and the dragonflies whirl around me like I fascinate them as much as they - me, before another dragonfly far more interesting than 

a photo-snapping person 

once again distracts them 

and 

they're off.

Ah, summer love.

Walking

A walk is a lovely thing.
When the Sun's not too hot
before nine
and the air's not too damp and
only feels like a friendly hug and not
an oppresive oppressor.
And most everyone's driven
to work so you're
without the engine growls
and the smell of gasoline
tainting the morning air.
Alone but not alone,
because someone's walking
a big black labrador
and someone's pushing their
baby in a stroller down the street
and someone's riding their bike
with their biking goggles and
gloves and everything
and some construction men
are finally
fixing that roof.
You can say goodmorning,
goodmorning,
morning,
hey there,
and when you can say those
things you're really not alone.
And sometimes
just sometimes
you spy something wonderful
like rabbit's ears peeking
above an untrimmed lawn
or a stack of potted plants
all growing together
with the big ones on the bottom
and the rest tiered up
- how ingenius?!
And that's why a walk is really
quite a
lovely thing.

Melting Ice

The world is cracking and bubbling and gurgling

under melting ice.

Little buds shiver

Cold air brushes the underparts of their leaves

Mild tempered weather

not easily peeved

Winter's welcome.