A Sunday morning in the city
The guys and girls
Sleeping in
From Saturday night
Getting pretty
The overachievers getting up
Getting to church
The streets have a certain quiet
A feeling of recovery
While the artists
Are up early
Catching great views
Hanging out window cells
And shooting
Music videos
All these days seems the same
Feels like I crawl into a cart
Slide along the tracks
The same mono train
Colors look the same
Pale blue sky grey mist lines
At least through my eyes
I see the limestone steeples
Flanking amongst the light rain
Reaching to the skies
I can find some solace
In these remembrances
Go through the motions
So this is how I bring in the new year
Eyes closed hoping not to hear
News of things good and bad
Today is just a day to remember a great soul
As I walk toward the steeple
In the January Cold
Don’t wreck the morning
Twill slip away with no warning
Late nights give way to undone time
Lines of sunlight pass through the cracks
Until the high of noon will come to pass
I collaborate with ideas
Giving up has no relation
Manifestation of lazy eyes
Rest and wake
In the morning
There we were
The last night on the farm
The summer of farewells
Sun setting soft in the clouds
That lie just above the horizon
Air light and easy
Wind calm subtle yet breezy
So many memories made over months
Lived on the farm
Time to move on
No reason to hold on
Holding on too tight
Will only make it difficult to let go
So pack up our bags
And lets hit the road
From the bugs
To the webs
Rolling dust up
Cleaning the house
On a small Indiana farm
Crawling out
Yearning
Falling out
Contemplating the rearranging
The possessions I own
Giving up
Learning to let go
So we can roll down the road
From NY to IN
Paving paths of uncertainty
Getting older will certainly
Make me wonder about the future
What it holds
And how to just let go
The Santa Ana winds have picked up
On the east coast we have the
West in mind
Fires burning bright
Brightest in a long time
Broken spirits and hopes
Go out with our thoughts
Protecting homes
Thinking on LA in NY
A terrible fire season ahead
The winds picking up in every direction
It is our thoughts and prayers
We are a sendin’
I am happy to report
There are birds
In the trees of Brooklyn
Out the windows
Chirping at 6 AM
Heard through cracks
Walls and siding
Singing songs
All morning long
Happy little fellows
Outside the window
Just east of Manhattan
In the morning sun
In Brooklyn
Rents going up
Places made by artist
Now have become sought after
By the big name boutiques
In the vintage book store
People are talking
300% is the new going rate
There is no way
We can pay
These new fee’s
This street will soon be filled with
Boutiques and galleries
At that point it will cease to exist
When the artist move out
The high dollar
The new list
I only observe
I am new blood
My heart was drawn by her story
In the book store on the corner
I took my friend from Sweden to the JFK
As we stood looking out the window of the train
I heard her say
That the Manhattan skyline made her remember the city
Trains passing by
Yet oh so pretty
NYC set on the evening sky
I will miss this place said with a sigh
Upon which it dawned on me
How lucky we are
To be
Citizens of this beautiful
Amazing
Country
What others would do to be come one
Get married, fall in love, sneak in, to get it done
But me I am set on this land
Born 20 steps from Lake Michigan
I found my pride
My soul
My heart owned
This seductive city
To call my own
But with pride comes
Responsibility
From sea to shining sea
We make this land great
Or terrible
It’s as easy as our demeanor
Can make it wondrous
Or meaner
We represent this city to travelers
Make it proud from skyscraper
To gravel
Take a moment to recall
What it means to be American
What all it is
What pride and joy
That we live in a great land
Our hearts deploy
Lingering seconds
Burning brightly
Days passing
So fast
Unsightly
Proving grounds found
Tucked away
On foreign grounds
We have made new paths
We have made new friends
Perfected our sound
In a new space
In a huge town
A Cup of Songwriting 