You’re a threat heading off to school
with your wide-eyed innocence caught on film
Phones mistaken for guns
Kindness mistaken for rage
You’re a threat for being in the way
In your little hands, you grasp dandelions
Blowing them apart, letting them sail in wind
Your laughter follows as each little piece
flies far from your fingers, floating to the sky
The moths have stopped circling the porch light, their wings now are as stiff as old letters. The night stretches thin — a slow dissolve of indigo into nothing…
The rain fell down, the marsh lay deep and wide, the small green singer raised his ardent plea — a pulse of life where hidden shadows hide, a call to join him in the waters free.
Of fragile flesh they rise, then sink to clay,
Their moments framed by gazes keen and bright.
Adored they blaze, then slowly pass away,
Perhaps too long they lingered in the light.