Bougainvillea (8/2020)

Clumsy cloud, you walked right into that lightning.
Catching clowns who balk with all the fighting,
what good did it ever do?

Bitter bugs, he drove right out of that webbing.
Under rugs he goes. Checkmate, check your stepping.
Crawling down tomorrow.

Thoughts race, chasing drifting petals.
Hauling.
Highway.
Two soles on a pedal.

Sea foam roaming by no design.
Weaving.
Waking.
Tendrils of a liquid vine.

Weathered, worn, he makes a way to the ocean.
Whimsy waves fading, laughing in slow motion.
When does that tide return?

Sunburnt sky, you stewed there while it was passing.
Lift-off lights, hues couldn’t move, they were gasping.
We’ll be back in no time.

Hat’s on, Captain with the wind.