Eco-Poetry

Are You Still a Rebel of Happiness?

Isn’t it a kind of rebellion to be happy in times of trouble?

What we humans call “peonies.” Image by author - made with Canva Pro.

Rain clings to the air, dissolves me
with its softness. Sadness clings
to young and old, spoils
like a drop of black dye
falling into a water glass.
Can I politely cover mine? —
I’m good, thank you.

The narcotic smell of jasmine
scents the humid air and there
is no sand left anywhere
to stick this head in. I want to be
happy in spite of the fact that
every island is a potential
Atlantis now.

A breeze from the open window lifts
a curl of your white-blond hair.
Your, “Good morning,” pitched
the height of happiness, and that
light smile and light of curiosity in
your forget-me-not blue eyes really
do it for me. Not for me —

are the estrangements of our time.
The sky curves forget-me-not blue.
If anyone’s left, should it some day turn
gray, white — whatever — I shall miss this
blue on behalf of those descendants.
I may be sentimental here:
Our neighbor’s good luck peonies

don’t reveal their blue halos to
human eyes, though they do to pollinators
of many stripes. Still, peonies lift
my heart without my seeing even once
that cobalt fire. Perhaps in later times,
certain shades of white clouds on white
skies will be savored as so very luminous.

Dear friend, thank you so much for reading my 300th Medium offering 😁.

I recently embarrassed myself on a writing Zoom that gave as prompt, “What are you…