Boy Scout

Impatient for vistas and blooms,

we direct ant-like prayers 

to a trail of crumbs, and miss

the peace of cake
walking.

'Lean not' is hiking code for

stand under the water

fall, and cast your fate,
upstream, to the winding

Source.

Rock sure; thrall the cliff,

and with a rose between your teeth,

dive

for
pearls.

There's no rush to God's hand,

gathering angel feathers,

for the plunge.

21 Years

Natty cherry topping the fence line,

sunset pests in a whirly-gig,

the wet garden, hopeful, and still.

Sunhat, coffee, pen;

all late comers to the Spring.

Harbinger bees buzz the blossoms

scented in promise.

If my swaying chair delirium

can pass for contentment,

I'm sober another year. 

The chip on my shoulder, shredded for mulch,

the sound of one hand slapping mosquitoes,

an anthem, yearning to learn.