How the Daylilies Grew

On an unremarkable day

a fourth grader swung his feet

forward and back

like a pendulum

(If pendulums could wear light-up Sketchers)

The world around him:

a game of Uno playing skip cards,

a Tamagotchi slowly starving in the pocket,

a field day running too slow for ribbons,

Yet to that fourth grader

that swing set stood like a castle

and he ruled as king

or maybe a jester, either way …

The friend on the other swing

laughed with him

giggling together

and planting little seeds

which, over a decade later

would grow into truly beautiful



Flowers in Her Hair

I hope there’s flowers in her hair

a wild wind mingling with root and rose

laughter in her voice from sun on her nose.

I hope she takes those little petals

places them down as silken white bookmarks

in those poetry books we read when apart.

I hope she’s somewhere out there now

tracing the tender trenches of her pillow

left void and open by an equally broke heart.

I hope she finds me

or maybe she won’t,

but all the same…

I hope there’s flowers in her hair.