“O Toddler Tree, O Toddler Tree”

“Pine Barren” ©️C.P. Hickey 2021

O Toddler Tree, O Toddler Tree”

O Toddler Tree, O Toddler Tree

How barren are thy branches?

O Toddler Tree, O Toddler Tree

How barren are thy branches?

Your boughs once full of ornaments,

Become vacant when they’re present.

O Tantrum Tree, O Christmas Tree

How barren are thy branches?

O Toddler Tree, O Toddler Tree

How barren are thy branches?

O Toddler Tree, O Toddler Tree

How barren are thy branches?

We put the best up out of reach

I missed a step and strained my knee

O Tantrum Tree, O Toddler Tree

Small hands destroy our efforts

“Tending Toward Rational in an Irrational World, Quite Irrationally”

“Light My Fire” ©️ C.P. Hickey 2021

“Tending Toward Rational in an Irrational World, Quite Irrationally”

One day when I wasn’t paying attention things changed.

With little or no explanation, a large group of people decided to embrace a crisis of chaos.

Like a bystander lighting a wooden match and watching it exhaust itself.

Then another, and yet, still another.

Never noticing how close to the gasoline they were, or how even a used up match could still ignite a conflagration.

Never a consequence conceived within the action, but an automaton bent on all the ill innate of the turmoil caused by the certainty that only paranoia can provide.

Juicy secrets rolled around in a dark perspective and seemingly rational, just for a moment.

Then, though, the fear derived of being discovered for pandering to such nonsense.

Stranded in a painted corner, with one’s hand gripping tightly to the wet brush.

Nowhere to go.

Just waiting for the paint to dry, so then an escape can be made to the next hurtful idea.

One day when I wasn’t paying attention things changed.

The rational world fell prey to narcissists that refused to admit the hideous nature of their reflection.

And the world has never recovered.

Was it supposed to?

Didn’t I kind of know it wouldn’t, though?

That seems crazy to me.

As if, as it, as if it could make any sense.

Sometimes relieving the tension by making a choice is the wrong choice.

That tension might be all that’s holding this fragile world together.

“Blind Justice”

“Blessed” ©️C.P. Hickey 2021

“Blind Justice”

I travel through backstreet alleys,

and by the voided front stoops of those that gave up.

I travel in the quiet space between time,

which can only be heard when it’s snowing.

I dally, in the mere moments before a summer’s pre-dawn emergence, when newspapers used to be delivered.

I am Justice.

I am that which puts right.

I fold out into a ledger of misdeeds and heroic dramatics.

Unseen.

Faith and disbelief aid and abet my purpose.

The time line I walk is excruciatingly painful.

I persist.

I am a phantom that tickles your ear as I move intimate close.

I get the hairs on the back of your neck and forearms to stand erect.

Goosebumpily grandiose.

I’m there in front of you, despite your blindness.

Taken for granted.

Reminding you that your choices aren’t always ethical, and predominantly self-serving.

Snarky comments, sarcastic tones, and guilt reside within the quiver on my back.

I fire down upon those that abandon their accountability with great speed and force.

Recompense required.

You finally see me as you move past glossy surfaces. I am a reflection of your misdeeds.

The looking glass is incapable of lies.

You know deep down, that I am right.

You can’t hide from my truth.

I am the shadow that sticks with you in the darkness.

“Truncated”

“Anne’stique” ©️ C.P. Hickey 2021

“Truncated”

Trunks contain mystery

Value, linens, history

Depots, terminals, and ports

Offloading, in due course

No longer nomadic

Stowed up in an attic

Waiting cloaked in dust

Cobwebs, faces brushed

Under hinges locked

Casual snooper stopped

A secret lies covered

Someday to be discovered

“Stage Lighting”

“Autumn Up” ©️ C.P. Hickey 2021

“Stage Lighting”

Getting ready for the final act

A flourish of golden autumn

Branches soon to be vacant

Frame warm light

Letting passers by in on a diminishing secret

Not really a secret

Because everyone knows what happens in Fall

The leaves fall off

Not a lot to it, really