From the rough
Of the grass
Long and blowing
In the late summer wind
The fall
Is upon us
With its linear sunlight
And orange hues
Touching the changes
And nothing you can do
So the early fall
Sets like the Heather days
As the summer fades
Away
If we fear each other
Than we do not grow
Fond of our differences
It is in the uncertainty
Of fondness that we are vulnerable
We let go
We listen
We grow
Let us not fear
Speak
Listen and
Learn
Dirty hand
Never quite know
That in the depths washed
You can not quite get all of the
Dirt
If dirt is on the hands of man
Whose hands toil in the dirt
No notice is paid
But on the hands of a banker
On the hands of a tycoon
We wonder
Where does this dirt come from
The dirty hands
That can’t be washed clean
Begin again
Again again
It all starts over
When you start again
But when you pick up
And return to form
You learn what you lost
And regain what you knew
So that in due time
You can see how you
Grew
Oh to fly
Away from the noise
Higher than the clouds
Get away
When the world
Is pulling me down
Oh to fly like a bird
In a fresh moment
Go with the wind
Go sing songs
Songs of love
Songs of hope
Birds will fly
I wish I could go
In due time
Excess will be left
Behind
Thin out the heard
In real time
In due time
Due process
Make way for progress
And leave the rest
Thursday reflection
From Wednesday protection
We make a new day
So go into the light
Make your day right
This Wednesday
What moves us
To action
What brings us to our knees
Of in action
Whose words do we believe
When the mountains
Block the path to the seas
When the desert winds
Keep us from our kin
In the silence we must learn
As the silence continues
We continue
To grow
Wise
Not old
Take the pay
Leave the people
Who is taking the stubs
When the president wins
Paid in advance
With taxes due
Who would have knew
What one man can do
With unfettered desires
To light a blazing fire
While a waining night fades
The ultimate game has been
Played
Display the power
Training our eyes
Not to wonder
Bearing down
Fists of thunder
Hold our breathe
Let go
The ones who have the power
Will soon let us know
That when their rains come
They will be a shows
Of the terrible grips of power
A Cup of Songwriting 