I pretend that fireflies Come around to remind me That there’s more than one light That the mask I wear everyday Isn’t the sign of Something nefarious Instead I add some words To the strange adage The truth shall set you free I add: Maybe…

I was in my cottage… And this strange little bird … popped in. He told me, “Ain’t this heat like sin?!” I looked at the treeline; shaking the lethargy of my quarantine. There my porridge sat, and ZOOM, the bird spat! I saw he wore…

Trapped A strange lethargy traps me like a firefly in a bottle. Heat lightning flickers near the treeline, glimmering at the edge of an oppressive day. I adjust my mask of contentment before stepping back into the cottage that masquerades as home.

I got goosebumps at midnight, when he held me tight. We looked each other being lost in each other side. millions of days are gone Now he says hold our baby’s finger tight.

Heat radiates above the tree line As the coolness seeps in from the woods to stir our lethargy to revive us so that we may sit in the twilight, outside the cottage as the firefly leads the way.

The Storm Ann WJ White Shears of wind whinge up and around the ledges of mountains. Atop, cream-filled clouds pass lazily over meadows, gathering, waiting for the sultry heat to arrive and blend currents faster effort. Indeed, bend the currents out of place, heat the…

I watch the firefly zoom along the treeline; And become inspired, To drop my mask. Change happens fast – And I welcome it; May it nourish me, Like the milk in a bottle, of a babe’s New Beginning.

The generations lower their heads as they go to the fields. All sense of hope for a better day slowly leaving their idle minds. Blisters and sunburns, broken bones and shattered dreams. Their children in the yard watch as their parents work jobs. They are…

The  ribbon of  filmstrip Known as linear time Is starting to fray at the ends Always travel west Just like ol Jim said “The west is the beeesst” Oh, I know that was before my time…. In a club up the boulevard Frequented by  ”…

Do cats build campfires? Tell stories? Watch fireworks? Never mind! I understand emojis about as well as Blake understood tigers. And who is that ghost lurking about? Is someone framing a shot or giving the ghost a sign? Maybe I’ll do better with Whitman.