Sidewalk crack

Sleepy afternoons

At the end of days

We’ve all known the sleepy afternoon
when slanting rain starts in, teasing light
against an aching blue sky. It happens when
the devil laughs I’m told; we often wonder
whether it’s more cackle or guffaw. Undecided, we walk on,
skipping over cracked sidewalks with Enya meandering
through us, tugging at one or another heart string.
We grow misty eyed — no reason — at the edge of another
work day, and even though we’re wet and 45, having just tripped
over a nefarious slab of sidewalk, we’re downright buoyant:
another must-do day done and hell if the rest of
the walk is not ours.

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That thing I didn’t tell you
Photo by Pedro Durigan on Unsplash

That thing I didn’t tell you

Don't ask me about the mustard



Ireland, like the color green, is where I belong:new and old in one vaporous

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