Penumbra Weekly

But I would much rather be right.

I would rather be a wonderfully carved 

branch with golden foliage and blueberries.

I would rather be delicate and divine,

a goddess floating between forests and sleeping

on raspberry bushes.

I would rather be a lake, placid

and still, unprovoked and agreeable. I would

much rather be a bee, buzzing softly- stinging 

quietly.

Rightness flutters freely through a breeze.

She is like a white feather that dances without        

strain,

oh and how she smiles when they call her name.

Unlike me, rightness is tame. Rightness is regal. 

There is a tranquility in her look that softens 

her touch

Like fairy dust on a milkflower. 

Rightness is a pebble amongst boulders of rock.

Rightness is the picture we all hold the frame to

Everyone Oohs and Ahs at Rightness.

An enchantress, they call her.

A face that blood boils at the sight of,

Alas, what a dream it would be to be right.