I watch the ribbons

of flame fade into the night,

the fire burns low,

and crickets chirp

with wooperwhils,

dew begins to rise,

the stars are out,

thicker than usual,

and I feel small,

content,

like I'm invisible

in a good way,

I can taste

sweet burning wood

when I breathe deep,

and tomorrow seems

far away,

I feel like the flame

as it changes from

fire to night.

I smile,

lean back,

and dream about

right now.

Note: "wooperwhils" are birds that sing at night. Their song sounds like "whoop - er- wheel" and never ends. Ever.

Happiness sings in the dark

and chases its dreams,

gallops into thoughts

and rhymes with cool breezes.

Dream umbrella of misted clouds,

a dance in the rain

time doesn’t apply

as your smile crinkles with joy,

the dew touching the grass.

Indigo skies and impassioned heart

a spinning top weaving webs of intrigue.

Painting the world with myriad colors,

simplicity without complications.

Snuggling with loved one

in front of roaring fire,

melting within his breath

tucked into his arms.

Enchanting heartbeats,

the perfect story

unlocking my heart

happiness flutters

through my soul

I don’t want to let go

I’ll just repeat his name

when I need happiness again.

Oftentimes life gets in the way and we forget what happiness is. We push away the good and embrace the bad. Because sometimes the happy becomes hurt.

Happiness to me is sitting on my eldest brothers lap. His smile has faded from memory now. But I fight to remember the stuff Disney toys he present with pride. That Raggedy Ann Doll he had hand made. That I cradled for years after his untimely death.

Happiness is nighttime at the farm with my grandparent on the front porch and the zap of the bug zapper and how my Grandmother laughed at how guilty I felt for the death of the mosquito. It's walks in the field and playing in the barns. Splashing in the creek.

It's Sundays with the Lady of the Marshe and roasting pigs on a spit and playing tag with children, rolls of hay as our base.

It's the swimming hole at dawn and the waking to the sound of Rock Creek rolling in my ears.

It's my Mama's whistle. So distinct I could find her. Even blinded by the spotlight. And the sound of a Busch Light cracking and my father's arms embracing me.

It's the birth of a sibling and knowing why you've been kept alive. It's meeting your soul. Strung out and in despair and then meeting her again in another life.

It's the laughter of my siblings. The smiles. It's the pride of a mother and tiaras and sequins and stages of life.

Happiness is love and fury and fire. Happiness is passion. It's creek beds and rolling fields. Horses in the pasture and cattle roaming through the pines. It's my grandmother's love and the moments I was enough. It's succeeding when you've been told to quit.

Happiness is going to bed each night next to the woman that I love and dreaming about what could have been and waking up to bliss.

Happiness is a state of mind.

As I sit by the patio wondering the obvious,

Life seems so tiring and treacherous.

A sudden light drizzle mellows the heat,

I just close my eyes and stay hooked to my seat.

The rain washes away the gloom,

And like a flower my heart blooms,

A smile tip toes quietly,

"Be Happy" the world says politely!

As I struggle with education,

And TV times to be rationed,

A little head rests on my shoulder,

And two hands hold me closer.

Melting eyes fall asleep

As he snuggles down to sleep,

And my heart skips a beat,

As I smile at this happy treat.

Tears sometimes flow on the pillow,

And the relation seems so hollow,

His warm hug holds me back,

Not letting my heart crack.

Through tears I look into his eyes,

Assuring me another day, we will survive,

And after that moment of pain,

Love makes me Happy again.

Now I know there is success,

And some material moments too.

But that is momentary Joy and elation,

True happiness is not its association.

As a writer I realise when I look around,

God has given me the magic to appreciate nature's sounds,

And to pen them in my words through feelings profound.

Here again the face curves, 

As I read through some verse,

My heart feels chirpy like a spring bird,

Life asks us to be happy, we just haven't heard!

A cup of iced coffee,

and a lemon bar.

A lack of commitments,

and a girl sitting at the next table,

who just made eye contact. 

A small smile, or two,

and both of you glance away,

and then back. 

A good kiss is a lot like

a bad car crash.

Springtime and gasoline

perfume –

veined romance,

music in breaking glass.

And in the instant of collision

everything is free-floating,

jumbled.

Pine needles, dried leaves and

an ancient peanut

float by you

as they enjoy

weightlessness.

Boys will lose one

dirty athletic sock on

dirtier blacktop and never

know it.

think about how hard it is

to pull those cars apart,

tangled together as they are.

It can’t be done

Without screeching

metal and the help of

municipal forces.

If you are lucky

both of you will walk away,

shaking but alive.

If you are blessed

the pain of the event

will be dwarfed by the contrast

of colors and shadow

and the taste of ripe strawberries.

I will not fib

it bubbles up

irrepressible 

   and giddy

   effervescence 

   that glides

                  up

         up

up

to emanate

impatience with

a trounce

from every pore 

like nectar

attracting 

the trills

and chirps

to burst forth

almost a hiccup

in its nervous

eagerness 

to be revealed

a booming 

  raawwwwwr

in the soul

uninhibited

no regrets

taken prisoner.

Today

I try 

a mighty

YAWP!

    thank you, Robin

and Oh, Captain

my spirit first 

discovered 

in that self-same

moment, could it

be that 

easy

and dare it

be that grand?

Yes!

 Yes!

   and YES!!!

Our youth 

gave us 

the audacity

to float

a foot above

the air

we are to blame

in what we

deemed worthy

barter

for our lightness

of being.

What could

be that

precious?

   I scour 

   my memory

   and come up

   empty

   each attempt 

   at contrition

   another 

   stone weight

Inspite 

of harm dealt

joy is almost

naive

and forgetful

   tickling

my weary gut

at the most

inopportune

moments

    Viola!

     The pesky

      bubbles

     and their

    adamant

                   e

               s

           i

        r

     p

u 

In the distance I hear the echoes of Children's laughter.

Brings me back to a happy ever after. Jump roping with the girls on the block,

Being chased by boys throwing rocks. Hide and seek will they ever find me?

I was the best at that game,

Rarely ever to be seen.

Oh yes! Time for a cool break.

I hear the melody from the ice cream Truck.

Hurry up,

He leaves if your to late.

I love the gum ball eyed ice creams and The famous pop rocks!

Now back to more outside play,

Not much screen time those days.

Double Dutch was not my thing,

To many ropes whipping at me.

Hop scotch was the key,

A way to win lots of yummy candy.

Baseball in the park;

Flashlight tag in the dark.

Drive in theaters were the best!

Do those even still exist?

I can never forget the feeling;

Giggling while writing a love poem to my First crush.

Not realizing this was the beginning of The love rush.

Happiness;

I find in my childhood.

Though going back I never could.

Now it's my children's turn to be happy And carefree;

Luckily they choose to share it through Their innocent eyes with me. S.M.~2016

We pile into the back of a worn out Chevy through the right side (the left door is broken). The lovers in the front seat are screaming along to a song that the rest of us don't know. I'm plastered against two almost strangers, the back road wind buffeting my cold face. I'm laughing at nothing, my stomach empty of dread.

We're walking into a park, an old friend and I. The air is hot but not oppressive. She's telling me about a movie she saw the night before, her giggling contagious. The playground is crowded, but we find two isolated swings. I kick off my shoes and soar through the air. I feel light. Limitless.

We're working on a project in German, neither of us having a clue what to do. We muscle through the problems, guessing all the way. Whispered puns and jokes bother our neighbors, but we don't care. He hits me playfully with his hoodie string. He tells me to fix my necklace, the clasp is showing. I glance at him, 5 years of history between us. But we're close. Closer than ever. I'm smiling for the first time in a long time.

Happiness is most real in the smallest of moments.