Drones

Drones

Monday Morning, Work

Busy like bees in a hive

Honeycomb not owned

I’m Not An Astronaut

I’m Not An Astronaut

I like my feet planted in the sand,

Or the soil

Hot hot hot, run to the mean tide line

Or cooooool, feel the wetness between my toes.

I like my lungs to grasp at the air,

Transparent but full of life.

I like my eyes to gaze at the sky,

Like the stars are just holes we’ve poked in a dark dome,

But never once have I wished to leave our Mother

For space suits & silent weightlessness,

Searching out there for what can only be fixed down here,

Under our feet,

Rooted in life.