Letting in to let out

Trouble waits at the doorstep when doves fear to fly. The possibility to soar when electrons collide and scientists become heroes.   People watch through windows overlooking front patios. Days go by and moons wane for a chance to cross the welcome mat.


It's wearisome outrunning this normalcy that litters my path with platitudes. Nymphs frolic in a field of roses somewhere I want to be. Where droplets of dew on green blades reflect morning sunlight. Late risers get the morning news from chirping birds whose melodies echo dreams past.

under the sycamore

A sticky sweet smell hangs in the air as the crisp breeze abates. A shepherd, some workers, and a white-tailed rabbit like actors in a silent film amble without rush. The sun blankets the morning dew. There is no beginning or end between sips of warm coffee.