Ducking Conformity

Ducks in a row.

How odd.

Everyone knows

each paddles

according to her own

preference,

less concerned with conformity

than the enormity

of being herself.

Discord

Chaos rains shrapnel.

Sharp words and laser looks

pierce self and ego

leaving wounds and scars

some too deep to see.

Morning Song

The wind, in alto voice

Hums through my window screen

A serenade waltzing me to wakefulness

Too early for my day to start

Too late for sleep’s return

I stay abed, still

Wrapped in yesterday’s dreams

And listen to this morning song