Faded and Forgotten
the name has faded
on this weathered stone
tucked away in the hills
where they found gold
to strike it rich
and forget the sorrows
dead dreams vanish
like the days that follow
Summer Has Begun
down the trail, towards the edge
the softened rays leak through
opening up a canopy so dense
Before this heat seeps in
and the tall grass fully dries
a lushness still remains
in the water and on its sides
A soft wind shakes the cottonwoods
their clouds of pollen begin to drift
like a weightless, shimmering snow
as if gravity does not exist
Birds are perched, singing songs
about how Summer has begun
on the American, through the valley
of the unforgiving sun..
Line of Sight
my past is in the dust
kicked up by these boots
I am now fully grounded
on these small-town routes
and dirt under my fingernails
while the sun hits my back
the North of neglected roots
re-staking an old map
once, a jaded searcher
now, a protector of my worth
ten years I feel I’ve fallen
the sun shines from this day forth
caveats surrounded my youth
i’m re-interpreting the signs
my line of sight now crystal clear
those old bearings: left behind
through this valley of dust
a different path, I carry on
up the hills and through the grass
a newfound line has been drawn..
Silver Lining
silver velvet sun / a silver lining within
malleable with the season / colors drop in the wind
different shades of light and texture
silver bark with silver leaves
a forewarning of storms to come
as whistling oaks and rapids compete
Stray Dust
Moving freely in a new place
Nostalgia kicks in,
but it is not a memory..
it is a familiar feeling from my youth.
These days are slower than usual
and I know this won't last much longer
so I will try my best to hold on
as the sun fills this valley.
This must be what living is all about:
moving freely and reconnecting
Just maybe one day,
I’ll be as free as this desert dust
At The Station
Awaiting the train
to take me back
into the city center
after sundown
The farthest I go
is this station
just on the edge
Once this train arrives
I can immerse myself
alongside these strangers,
including myself
Everything is so alive
in front of these eyes of mine
these eyes of naivety
Neon lights dance in
raindrops on the window
as the train rattles
and sounds its signal
There’s not much noise
at this moment in time
just moving pictures
The Wind Howls
What’s left is the decay
leaving behind shadows
in the memory of flames
and an ominous tune
carried in the wind
once sung by the wolves
a tune that belongs to winter
as it slowly crawls into
the scarred forest..
Quiet Corner
in this quiet corner
charming houses sit still
the morning sun peaks over
into the canopy, it fills
the sidewalks are hardly used
and nobody seems to leave
a slight breeze is just enough
to shake the hanging trees
No Birds Today
there are no birds today..
just the song of wind
as a storm crawls by:
a taste of winter
in the spring’s end
while the roots take a final drink
and the birds fly north as friends
at the cusp,
there are no birds
just the song of wind
and a cold touch..
Certain Memories
the mountains, they roll on
and the tires grip the ground
certain memories fade
certain memories are found
the smell of the backroads
on a winter’s morning
the town with that river
under a summer’s day
just a child taking it in
an adult trying to retain
it’s funny how some memories
are gone before they fade
In Darkness, In Light
hopefulness is showered by the morning glow of the sun
birds communicate, shadows form, a new day fills in
the winding road on top of the hill is a world away
from the dampened soil—where other microcosms thrive
protected by the seedlings and the trees’ decaying leaves
the question still persists: what is dark? and what is light?
Remains of a River
what’s left of its past
long neglected
no longer seen
hardly heard
a boundary for a town
the line gets washed away
it’s where the fog begins to form
where the creatures feel safe
but it’s the shadows in the water
that show the town’s true face
Branch by Branch
tracks divided the open land
but they soon were abandoned
so the land began to take it back
branch by branch, leaf by leaf
slowly, without a doubt
~
and now the sun continues to shine
the raindrops replenish
another day passes,
the line fades
slowly
Dead Dreams
they arrived with dreams of gold
the land left fruitless in return
a crying wind across their plots
where dry grass drifts slow
discarded in dust,
glimmers under the sun
reminiscent of the color:
a dream that once was..
Believe in the Spring
believe in the spring
and she will believe
in you
patience,
for she has given her all
crying before the bloom
The Bend
the birds are louder
on this secluded side
the wind is gentler
dust seems to settle in
i walk on hardened dirt
following a sunlit road
trying to rid the past
as i approach the bend
the setting sun seeps through
soaking the leaves’ ends
i must follow the last of the light
i must follow the bend
