when gathering for granddad’s funeral no one’s vehicle tires turned into the yard similarly. even gravel sounded different as folks drove in and chose a place to park. the earth where his brown Ford pickup had been parked for nearly 70 years – until Uncle drove it away – had grass growing again, but had for nearly fifteen years, I suppose. I wonder if I’m the only one who noticed. I never asked.
who we are is decided yet ever flowing, correct? be the breeze; gentle and free be steadfast in image, thought and deeds, I see you, Mr. Redbird, I see you watching me among the debris. Your tweet insists following or even a reminder you’re near, but most of all its a sign I do know love, and hello new year.
Where did my thoughts go Back burner, they’d disclose Who chased me away A silly dream, I’d say How come I’m quiet Learning my place, but I digress What’s the plan To heal and begin again, I guess When will you emerge Today.
the concern within my eyes – twilight assumes as its own, my faith breathes. gone is nearly today, as dust billows life continues, work sets the pace the echoes of yesterday further behind, as tomorrow eagery awaits. Cicadas joyful within the trees, remembering to honor those before the sun sets, pups howl against the breeze. Light, use your glow, dusk determines goodnight – we’ll pause – alongside the tea kettle. The future, only God knows, yet I whisper ideas as the spirit of the day settles.