Those high bar days
When the grey won’t quite
Fade away
The rain falls
Into the next day
The finish line moves
Back a few miles
When you feel you can’t accomplish
Anything for a while
But the rain will clear
The grey will
Pass
I just have to get up everyday
And off my ass
Heated streets
Dense air clasped
Onto the nape of the neck
Settling down
As the sunlight reigns down
An easy breeze
Of of Lake Michigan’s
Sleeve
Sunglasses in tote
While the darkness
Of winters now quite
Remote
Long breaks
Is what it takes
To reconnect
With the words
That can be off
Or correct
Up in the woods
Or down flat on the deck
Taking these breaks
Is what makes
Me keep coming back
Crisis of numbers
Crisis of names
Fumbled the words
Distracted and tame
How to recover from
A case of public doubt
Lean back
Don’t scream and shout
Back to the well-written word
Artistry of presentation
One can return
With no hesitation
A studio in the shore ditch of
London
A fresh sea
On the coast of Chicago
As the summer rolls up
Its sleeves
Bringing more heat tomorrow
On a ledge
Cut from fresh grasses
And hedges
The summer rolls on
And wrinkles my shirts
Edges
Who is that
That can sway the seas
Open up
Opportunities
Given graces from descendants
The money talks and walks
Where there once was hope
Is now lost
Fall over a broken note
All over the embers of hope
Into the ashes of a once known fire
Where put the remains
Of a disruptive liar
When the Cherry blossoms bloom
Up into the sky around the capital
A new season sets upon
Weary souls
Holding hope for the priority
Capital
To push through the papers
And represent the people
From whom they are selected
And they owe all
Without them
They never would have been elected
Zero
Gone
Done
Finished
Sold Out
Depleted
Purchased
Denied
Refused
Destroyed
Futile
Departed
Final
From the bed
To the kitchen
Coffee hand ground
Through the waterfalls
Into a cup bound
Freshly filling the edges
With a glass of refreshment
A morning migration
To day
From sleep
