I really do love smoking Though I no longer do Pre-packed or loose Different rituals Same love Firm, edged, rectangular body Smacking against the heel of my palm Crinkle crinkle the plastic unwraps And – oh! The lovely indent at the tip Spongy filter pressed against lips Flick flick the flint sparks Light burns yellow to orange A cherry alive Going up in smoke Rolling is The epitome The dedication The perfection Not too much Not too little Just right The moist strands pulling

The black hood lowered Over the round sky Blocking out the light My eyes strained At the artificial midnight My body instinctively knowing It should be day Outside I’d never seen lightning like this Alien blasts of Blue-white light Echoing through the air And I was surprised to see our world Still standing in their wake #poem #poetry #Writing

so satisfying the crunch acorns underfoot #poem #poetry #Writing

The fog lay a thick band onto the grass, a crowd of people standing shoulder to shoulder. I couldn’t see but over their heads. Red and blue bands arced across the sky. Red where the dawning sun hit the clouds and blue their shadowed underbelly. The golden yolk rose from the ground, trumpeting its rays and painting the world before it priceless. Horses stood still in their fields, cows still lazed on their bellies. Their eyes watched the passing cars whose lights cut through t