Quite jubilent, considering.

Money on a park bench, what good fortune.

Baby in a stroller smiles at me,
what serenity,
and all packed so sweetly,
into such a tiny little body!

Kind old ladies sharing tales of the good times,
when they fell in love,
when they watched their kids, grow,

All delivered in a stream of nostalgia so infectious my own heart swells
like the clouds above,
raining down a shower of glorious emotions.

I cry with a smile on my face.

It’s moments like these when the pure value of life truly shines bright.

I say aah! to be the humming bird flying round and round a plump humming bird.

Such a transcending vision

I cry with my arms open.
Welcoming the world.

[And she built a bonfire to burn her Liar-Liar collection of 1970’s panties, they caught on fire rather quickly, adieu – she said – While dancing to a tape recording of Bach’s ironic harmonica concerto: Die Toten Honig Himmel]

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Blind Swing and Miss

pigmy ran with a slug slouched on her left shoulder
a lady bug on her bowler hat.

Slug desired more than this thankless task
of keeping alive on an errandess
With such a right shoulder.

Regardless, work had to be done;
for an anchor had landed on a ceiling,
and Master Rigor Pett,
a fickle copyist
with three eyes instead of one,
was as fussy as a pussy cat.

He bothered with too much,
And gave little care to most.
Family didn’t seem to mind;
The checks were never lost
And prompts never payed

Despite being one too short for.

Greed in the shape of dead mice.
Perhaps votes count for only for census
Drinks diluted in bitter spirits bite twice
An obvious lesson for all of us.

Pigmy did not approve of this message.
Too much pretence she reckoned.
And I agree entirely.