I ain’t laid eyes on a lightning bug,
not one all spring into summer.
I figured these hillsides way out here
would be lit up, glowing with the joy
and the squishy phosphorescent goo
my little brother and I used to smear
all over our pinchy pointers and chubby thumbs
when we’d hold on a little too hard.
We just wanted to catch and release,
but life’s too short for all that
when you’re a lightning bug.
Ain’t a jar been made
 could trap your  shine.

I wanna be sitting on a porch.

My porch, built with my hand.
A single wide ain’t a home without one.
I want my porch.
A peaceful place I can sip coffee
it’s way too late to be drinking
and stareup and into the perfect half light
of a perfect half moon.
And gaze down through a green glowing cloud
blinking out messages of hope in a holler,
 encouragement never meant
for my lowly human eyes
to comprehend.