Thought 1.

He lay there, alone, the hottest time of day,
prostituting himself to the Sun calmly
giving up his color

…wet brown to bleach white…

until an angry wave pulled him to her bosom,
then a finger wrote in the sand,

“No deadwood, Please!”

Thought 2.

She was a flower growing wild
on a small mountain top
out of reach of the happy wanders
who caught only a glimpse of her
shining scarlet in the Sun.

Petals opened wide to catch
the Sunshine’s warmth
to sustain her through the
blue-chilled night,
for the Moon was not her friend.

The jealous Moon asked the Wind
to shake her from her mountain throne
and begged the Rain to come
and wash the evidence of her away.

Such was the plight of a flower
growing wild on a small mountain top
out of reach of the happy wanders
who will never glimpse her
shining scarlet in the Sun again.

Thought 3.

I started to cry,
but I didn’t know why.

Then I realized,
I had no reason,

So, I laughed instead.