no reason for joy

yet here
joy
lives
a toad under a pink bougainvillea
a hummingbird flirting with the spray of my hose
a morning unremarkable

am i touched
gone on a bender
an ego of unusual size
or
just me
electrified and magnified by my love of words

more than any lover or god
my own words become prayers and balms
leave behind pamphlets
a trifold brochure of my minor accomplishments
a photo of me in my 60s just after i’d stopped dying my hair
two kids
and all this babble

it’s quite okay though
if i’m actually gone
a ghost
typing vapor trails in the sky overhead
down into the freezing mountain stream
runoff from the long winter
skiing

alone

8-26-24

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