Mountain Daffodils

like little yellow stilettos
that shoot up out of the earth’s
meadowed muck,
these blooming brigades.
their wild beauty beckons.
sparks a splendor
that cuts me bare.
loosens my eyes.
I sip my morning coffee.
feel their pulse. they lull me in.
I'm on another planet.

soon hikers will thrash a path.
find this golden garden.
have a solitary moment.
even spy a circling hawk
with its plunging eyes.
but these yellow trumpets are the stars.
they are the lords of the land,
the jewels, the flamboyant ones,
a path to the unbound within us.
here I take a break
from the brute city life.
there are no measures of right and wrong.
these shiny medallions,
stubborn, light weight, offering up
a journey to beautiful things.
I leave here soft, free, stainless.
these blossoms - a consequence
of spring and summer broth,
and fall’s barren breeze.

Lucky

he lurched from the bushes.
stared. declared his presence.
I was staunch, resolute.
no I said.
but he demanded.
he put his chin on my knee.
gave me his two bold eyes.
his red collar said Lucky.
he sat right beside me.
shameless I said.
I jostled.  turned away.
pretended not to notice.
I did my best but his zestful
look had mastery.
humans never greet me
with such affection.
I gave him a half sandwich.
this little fox ate to his pleasure.

I ambled to the park.
sat by a picnic table.
he trotted behind me like my BFF.
no, I said. no more.
go chase a bird.
he refused.
he put his chin back on my knee
and looked straight up.
I broke. 

later I saw him nudge another.
found himself more goodies.
he's not lucky,
I said.
he’s smart.