A Simple Match

Birds sing in a season’s dawning

Woods turn green

Flowers push skyward

A small garden is reborn

Such is spring’s reward

But often…

My morphemic-whisperer actually prefers bleak weather

Short days giving less time for text to wander off

From my clustering of etyma 

Arresting my quiver of arrows

Targeting unique revealings

Attaching expression to screen

To paper

To contribution

Yet…

Many thoughts dart into the shadows of my mind

Rendering me paternally homeless

Holding fast my children of restless symbols

Where shelter is found in my nocturnal dreams

Upon rising…

I love most the acceptance

Of being here today

Perhaps gone someday

The ink of written experience

Slowly fading into another form

Like the gradual cessation of flame

Of one simple match

Given life long ago

To light my way