that's mrs. mediocrity to you

a grocery-store rose
never smells as good
as one grown outside in the garden.

having said that,
a grocery-store rose
is better than no rose at all.

and both will die with the same poignant beauty.

life is complicated.

life is simple.

life is living.

we like to pretend (in our heads)
that it’s more than that.

but really, that’s all there is:
living.

in between there is grace—
as hard to grasp as a thorn.

you think i don’t know what i’m talking about.

you are absolutely correct.

also,

never trust a rose.

.

.

.

this cliff
by a lake
on the side
of forgiveness

.

or sanity

.

broken wing
prevents flight
but still
mirrors falcon
.

you choose

.

.

.

.

but not because we’re partners
or even romantic dreamers
but because
that is just the way of things
this two step
wide waltz
samba
tango
cha cha
rubbing me raw
even as it burns
the corners
of my sanity

mist and smoke
are indiscernible
from a distance

and i
am yours
on the edge
of this loon lake
water
mountain

rising high
through cold waves
to block
the valiant tendrils
of another
persistent-colored
grey day
sunrise

.

.

.

i sat on a deck
by a lake
in the mountains

and watched a bat
fill the sky
with pattern

miles and miles and miles
away
things were being broken

hearts
laws
a country

a document
we’ve forgotten
to remember

the same idiot wind
playing loud
in both places

burning holes
in an atmosphere
of calm

silence is a lie
we tell ourselves
at dusk

transparent wings
gently flapping

.

.

.

title and idiot wind ~ bob dylan. photo by my three-year-old granddaughter.