Haiku Riff

Swirling, skirling. Not
Lost – but neither found. I think
This is called dancing.

I’ve stepped off the shore, no compass, but with wind in my sails.
Capricious wind.
There is a direction – there. And then not there.
It’s not that I’m elated – but that I elate. I verb. I reverb.
I have made it. Now if only I can figure out what that it is.

Much direction, and none.
But when dancing, no matter.
I make up the beat.

Snapshots Of a Growing Boy

—

“Wow, Mom, look at that hockey net!”
“Yeah, I think some big boys live at that house – they seem to like to play sports.”
“Are they bigger than me?”
“Yup, I’m pretty sure they are, since they’re older than you.”
“Are they tall?”
“Probably. Taller than you are right now, anyway.”
“Can they cook?”

—

“…Au claire de la lune…”
“Momma, why does the boy’s fire go out?”
“Well, in the song, it tells the story of a boy who’s trying to write a letter, and his candle goes out and he needs help from his friend to light it again so that he can finish his letter.”
“Does the fire not burn?”
“Well, it goes out, the candle isn’t lit anymore.”
“Where does the fire go?”
“Well, it gets blown out, and there’s a little smoke, like when you blow out the candles on a birthday cake.”
“But where does the fire GO?”

—

“OK, Love, Momma’s gotta go – can I have a hug?”
“No, I’m busy.”
“OK, then, bye – have a good day.”
“HAVE A GOOD DAY, MOM, GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR BWEEFING NOTE AT WORK!!!”
“You have a good day too, see ya!”
“SEE YA!!!”

—

“Momma, that plant scratched me!”
“Oh, did you scratch your arm? Let me see. Looks pretty good – I think you just need to be a little careful not to walk too close to the bushes – those ones need to be trimmed.”
“No, it tried to eat me!”
“The plant? I don’t think it wants to eat you. I think it’s just a little scratch from a pokey branch.”
“No, no, it wants to drink my BLOOD!”
“What? I really don’t think that’s carnivorous shrubbery there, Love.”
“Yes, it is, it IS! It WANTS to DRINK my BLOOD!”

—