FUNK AND WAGNALL’S BACK PORCH
Bottoms come sealed in envelopes from unknown accountants. Amazing how many nominees and how few winners! The audience, filled with past recipients, holds its collective breath and prays for this year’s finalists, and prays a bigger prayer of thanks to this year’s donors, the ones who prove with their lives that it hasn’t gotten better out there. The speeches are the same, a gratitude list and maybe a punch line, the smiles and tears fresh but familiar. And when the lights go out on this night, the days of diligence begin once again so no one need lose their seat and we can all celebrate here, next year, together.
Open even though the hinges are hidden.
Nightcrawlers and Nightingales
I wriggle blind eyed through the dirt;
friction, my friend giving me something to push against,
resistance aiding my travels.
I worm my way through life
and believed that was all there was; having never seen the sky.
I traveled far and wide once I had taken to the air.
Open eyed I push against a thing I cannot see
and peer down on the dirt I left behind.
I soar rather than struggle
and go the distance leaving my mind open to the next frontier.