Summer Swell

Warm jasmine in the breeze
Rushes up on me
Forty shades of green
In the shade tree
Bright and tropic petunias
My glass sweating in the sun
The ice twirls and mirrors
Swift summer heat
Turns each leaf
It spins right up to me
And twists my hair
The sky peaking through
In orange glow
Tilts my eyes away
Where it glitters on the porch
Kaleidoscope dancing
Envelopes my wide world

Art Credit: Middle Way Art Studio

The Dreaming Age

Sometimes something special reminds me what it’s like to dream again. And it’s like this hidden emotion that gets forgotten until something lights it up. And I see it as clearly as I did when I was younger, and simpler, and when things were much more magical. And it overcomes me. I don’t have to work for it. The dream just comes back to me. And that is more poetic to me than anything I can explain.

I think those kinds of dreams happen in that intricate time when we are changing from children into adults. I think that at some special youthful interval we get a chance to be overwhelmingly complex and fearlessly hopeful. I would dream so deeply then. My dreams tend to be more technical now, and less beautiful, and less like dreams and more like goals. Without the magic and without the hope of undamaged youth. But sometimes I hear a special song and it takes me back, and I feel more like myself than ever before.

Melted

I walked out in the yard
And I was tired but happy
You know my soul has seen weather
And it gets so wound up
Life stirs me up
And now I spill out all my color
My fire burns out into the night
I sat on a ragged blanket
In ripped blue jeans
And I dragged on a cigarette
And it fumed out into the air
And the stars were closer to my heart
Than anything else
And my color was split out everywhere
Under a navy night sky