Today,
The black silhouettes of trees
mark the blue sail of a sky,
Today,
THe
Negative space of definition-
Only makes it clearer–

We are wunderkins–
All of us.
Still kids of wonder-

In this cool masquerade
Of Fiona LIVE-

WE are the healers,
the believers,
the misfits,
the lovers–

It does matter-
We do line up-

Center stage or
–left of center

COMING IN HOT-

The air is electric
with our own
clarion calls,

of distinction-

Even in these corsets of paragraphs,
With boutonnieres of punctuation

This parsonage of words
Are not just filler

they bridge the gap
they distinguish and define,

each of us-you know
the
RADICAL kind-

who still look beyond

these broken glass days-

For better.

I know another anthem, but I can’t write dark with desperate angst among the angels of Fiona.

Thanks for allowing me in the back door,

CHEERS to the Fionians , and to the “lust for life”