Lip syncing a Sade song
to Muscovy ducks
who bob their crazy-looking faces
along to the beat.
Looking at the face and half-lidded eyes
of a squirrel that tried and failed
to cross a power line.
Noticing a well-fed hawk swoop from one
vantage point to another
watching Gigi as its 7 lb. breakfast.
Walking like I’m on a runway
when it becomes too irresistible
to stay normal—
because I think I’m alone
until I hear Hal from the smoke shop say:
“Get it girl.”
Enjoying the breeze
from early morning arid air
because soon there will be none of that
to cool my skin
in the thick of summer.
Waving at commercial landscapers
whose familiar faces grin broadly back—
only evidenced by a shift in demeanor
as they work on this Memorial Day.
I’m writing from a place where everything is good,
but like that squirrel, whose head is
gently pressed against a curb
and somehow makes me so sad
I know everything is temporary.
(Daily Writing 052)
Thoughts?