Pop

goes the liar,

spending air on promises.

Pop

goes the preacher

sending them on their way.

Pop

goes the future

drifting up and to be seen

another day.

Snap, Krackle, Pop

not cereal,

just aching, worn out knees.

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new plants closer to earth

sit and shake,

mired in their mirth.

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Making fun of the creaking and groaning

sitting down hard as I go,

But soon it won’t matter

When this garden puts on its show.

First flowers

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one of many firsts for now,

opening to the sun,

closing a chapter of cold.

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Saturation, ongoing into other forms.

Just a first of many,

moving slowing through it all.

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Fear is the new normal

of unanswered questions

letting it be known that I am not worth the answer?

Fear is the new normal

in placing obstacles in my way

for the simple pleasure of watching me trip?

Fear is the new normal

because saying it isn’t so

makes it not so?

So.  Sew.  Sewn.

Uneven.

Power.

Having a good time?