The time it takes
For one simple flake
To make its way
Down the streets of New York
Falling carelessly to the ground
Over the Empire State
Shoveling below
Cracking sound
Filling the streets with heavy
Steady and steady
Falling so hard
I can barely make out
One World Trade
In a storm for the ages
Barren isles of food in the store
We bear down the hatches
And get ready
For just a little more
The delicate dance of the squirrel
Through the pine clippings
In McCarren Park
Through the light and
Through the dark
With such light ambition
To find a simple treat
Prance along the sidewalk
Just finding something to eat
Resilience comes in not only humans
In New York City
It even has tough squirrels
Fighting tough
But still seemingly
Elegant and pretty
I can only imagine the scraps
Of the city streets
Instead of lush woods
Would be much easier to find
Whats next to eat
But yet the squirrel carries on
In his speckled gray coat
His eyes just seemed wide
Full of hungered ambition
And hope
Every blistering second
Count down from 10 to nine
Hold my breathe
I think it will be alright
Nine to eight
Walk forward again
Push through the door
Early rather than late
Eight to seven
Straighten myself up
Give all I am given
Seven to Six
The frustration and challenge
Getting worn in
Just for kicks
Six to five
Hold my head up
Stay alive
Five to four
Only 3 more
Four to three
Look everyone in the eye
From your heart let it be
Three to two
Now I am alone here
I must see this through
Two to one
One more and I am done
One to zero
Satisfied corruption
Don’t take someones word
On automatic assumption
Humanity will rise and fall
Some will tell the truth
Others a false call
Will ring on every persons ears
The willing or unable
Confident or full of fear
It is this small eruption
Will ill will
Built in conjunction
When you are on the receiving end
Beaten down
Will and resilience must not bend
It will happen on a Monday
Or Today
Or any day
For the needs of the liar
Will surely set
Your belly on fire
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
The buildings here are really beautiful
This is merchandise mart
The speaker blares out
Doors closing
Back in Chicago
Somehow my perception of the city
Changes as I grow old
The same conversations
Over the same topic
Just new faces
Said in new ways
The brown line seems so quiet
Around this time
A Saturday in January
This is a brown line train to kimball
It seems there is always the smell of chocolate on this stop
Dried salt stains and sand on top
It’s the same city
I am different now
Sometimes we just need help
A four letter word
That keeps me from running to far off
On days
Where my pants are dirty
My mind worries
Where the next paycheck is coming
So I find myself running
Not with my feet
Constant thoughts
But then I get some help
It comes in any form
Off the beaten path and more the norm
These small gestures I suggest
Mean more day to day
Take sullen weights off my weary chest
I muse myself that the world can see my needs
Humanity in its entirety
Knows what I need
So I just have to remain steady
Hold on hope
That I can persevere
Through the sleepless nights
And life will return back
Resuming that it will be alright
My life is a not a series of beautifully crafted paths
It is as guided by decision
As by indecision
Commitment
And fear
It holds back for no one
No waiting for the clear
Life simply occurs
I react
Doing my best
Given what my limits of knowledge are
I go forward
I try not to look back
Focus on progress
And somehow
Eventually
I make it work
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
Early morning callings
Waking up from dreams
Rain hits glass soft clipping steam
I think of what 2015 brings
2014 brought many things
New life
Loss of life
Friends
Reminding me that not every new year
Is your friend
But with age comes time
And with time age
Lives are born
While others taken away
So I lay in bed
2 days into the new year
Hope for the best
Hold back my fears
Of what time may bring me
with the New Year
