The buzzing bees enter the room with trendy wings,
hormones are the honey.
Teenagers, victims of the stereotype:
Boys: what do I do with this thing?
Girls: what does he do with that thing?
They stand in small groups of unpleasant warmth
penguins rotating for inner safety.
Children, seeking the who, what, when, where.
Taking a chance,
or holding up the wall.
Boys: take a leap!
Girls: not so fast.
"You had a Dame that lov'd you well,
That did what could be done for young
And nurst you up till you were strong
And 'fore she once would let you fly
She show'd you joy and misery,
Taught what was good, and what was ill,
What would save life, and what would kill.
Thus gone, amongst you I may live,
And dead, yet speak and counsel give.
Farewell, my birds, farewell, adieu,
I happy am, if well with you."
- In Reference to Her Children
by Anne Bradstreet
"With You" by LIFT
Three priests in a Prius
traveling the New England coast
fresh from taking confessions
and sharing the Holy Host
The driver, markedly older
conveyed a certain misery
while listening to his passenger
relay his personal history
The backseat holds the third
snoring in peaceful sleep
he dreams of falling in love
with the calmness of the sea
The road up ahead is long
Exhaling the angel’s song
We welcome in the flood
While breathing the breath of God
The trio follows the path
The road, its twists and turns
The soft sun in a felt-board sky
Lights the dusk as it gently burns
What is the destination?
What end will be revealed?
It matters not, the three agreed
For our souls took flight
in the love that guides our sails