Missed Connections in Baltimore
Stop
no matter how fast i drive
madness ripping
as miles fly by.
i sense calamity
some say tragedy,
kindled in hands
of cosmic divinity.
nothing takes me farther
or closer any faster
from shadows deep,
where perennial roots creep
into must-green caverns infinity
where i mean to keep.
Her Two Cents
I don’t think I’m the only one who finds this to be a crazy, spinning-top time of the year. When our bodies would like most to be still in a warm, quiet place, we’re thrown into holiday dashing and prancing from shop to shop, party to party. The holiday lights twinkle in the dark but can never adequately replace the glow of fireflies on a late July night.