Past The Program

Four ducks swim past the point,
hens intent exploring

newly exposed land. Teals guard
both entrances to the bay, dismiss

me in this perfect calm, the tranquil
sky filled to capacity–what will be

the tipping point to start the storm?
My friends and I discuss hunger and

how we misread our bodies’ cues after
so many decades of television programming

addiction to sugar. Wistful for a child-
hood we never experienced. What if

our mothers hadn’t been sold a magical
formula superior to her milk? We long

for sweetness in the corrupt society
fed by distorted lies. We doubt our

super powers; everyone else seems so
much more qualified, selling their

patented knowledge. In his perfect camo
feathered along the fall grasses, one

mallard watches, capturing my attention
while the others dive hidden from view.

Just so I sit, my old
woman façade obscuring our descent

into the true depths of being
where we find each other, sweet-

hearts bursting essence strong
beyond the flimsy stories of separation.

Inspired by: Hunger, Capacity, Wistful and Corrupt.