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

roots of negativity thrive in this dying garden

that only feed on itself

in fear-induced corners

of the dead hours

where vines of disbelief strangle any chance

or inkling of growth

by necessary detachment

-head eats heart eats soul-

Summer Has Begun

Down the trail

and 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..

solace succeeds the storm

foreign conversation fills the room

cobblestone dries from yesterday’s rain

I have found peace in this village on the hill

//

a forest of mysticism among the limestone:

overlooking the beautified that was once mined

the rocks now serving as structures

in the backdrop through the trees

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..

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..

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