lucky

I spent a decade of my life looking through patches of clover

If I had ever found an extra leaf the hunt would be over

I'm not sure what I thought would happen to me

But it seemed it could never hurt to be a little more lucky

Though a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow would have been better

Maybe all I ever wanted was a change in the weather

A four leaf clover is an abnormality that I never did see

But all the same life has been astoundingly good to me 

 

the lesson of the lillypad

said the tadpole to his favorite pond

"i will never know a love like you"

said the frog upon his lilly pad

"what you say is true"

"you will never love,

like you did before"

"but you will love your lillypad

in ways different, new, and more"

not the poem i want to write tonight

i want to write poetry that opens blind eyes to empathy and tells a story but time isn't on my side and so i just leave you with one pathetic run on line and the promise of maybe tomorrow

this is monday morning

stumble out of bed into hot shower and check your texts
hands on the steering wheel and green lights and next

you're early enough to get a good spot
wet hair in the parking lot

blink repeatedly and drink water to stay awake
cold war and air pollution and passé composé 

bad posture and little enthusiasm 
the cafeteria is too loud for conversation  
in passing periods check your phone 
count down minutes until you go home 

thunder

i dreamed i was dying, gasped for breath and woke up to thunder

rubbed groggy eyes and heard the rattling drumbeat of life

i am mostly water that circulates throughout earth & history and
makes me a mystery and never stagnant but sometimes asleep