Purple We Stand

No red wave in sight

No flood of blue rushing in

Purple sea are we

~ smj

I can

Many times I climbed
right up that “do not climb” hill.
Don’t tell me I can’t.

~ smj

My “do not climb” hill.
Ok.. I don’t actually own the hill..
~ smj

feels like summer

Summer remnants fall
beside fading autumn leaves.
Quick! Rake it all in.

~ smj

Feels Like Summer, by Weezer

firefly nights

fireflies escaping
like sparks flying off the fire
joining stars and you

                       – smj, 5/18/2019

—————

Just a little haiku I wrote for my cousin.  I was thinking of childhood memories of parties at their old house… and, of chasing fireflies.  We would run through the fields at their house in the night… trying not to trip over the dark while following the sporadic flashes.  If we were lucky, we’d manage to catch a few fireflies, and when we did, we would put them in a mason jar with some holes in the lid.  We thought we could use them as a lantern.

We would keep them for a bit, but I never wanted to keep them long.  I was afraid they would die (thanks Dad).  So I’d let them go… sometimes unbeknownst to my cousins while they were busy desperately trying to catch more.  Besides, the flies just were not nearly as beautiful or impressive up-close.  They just looked like…. well… flies (with big glowy butts).   But, with a little added distance?  Oh my. They became magical… mystical…  lighting up in the dark sky if only for a second… here… then there…. then, wait… where?

I still see them in my backyard sometimes.  I don’t try to catch them anymore. My boys are also too old now for that.  I don’t think they were ever as impressed by them as I was anyway.  Am.  I still am.  I still like to watch them flicker on and off, until they are too far away to see and I lose track of them.  They remind me of  the sparks flying off a bonfire… billowing with the smoke up to the stars.  I like to try to follow those as well… watch as they rise up to the heavens…  until they fade into grey ashes that join us once again.  Or until they just mysteriously disappear all together.  Possibly morphing into yet another distant star against the black sky.  Who’s to say?

 

#metoo

sleeping secrets stir
wake to rooster’s crow for light
answering #metoo

~ smj

 

 Alive, Sia