The Colors of Dawn

She began pastel pink, airy and light
a sense of normalcy.

Darling.

Placing herself gently upon wide open and encompassing blue.

Auspicious.

As if appearing for the sole purpose of approval, geese, in v formation, fly through.

Scene Highlighted. 

Prophetic.

Vibrant, at the snap of his command.

Passion, becomes the color of morning.

To Get To You

My favorite hour arrives
Too quickly
Today,
A drive, required,
I need to see
You.
Same car,
Same old highway,
Same steady heartbeat
Purring, excitedly.
I’ve chosen the view,
A spot alongside
Road X,
Wishing to beat you there
My heal digs, as my toes
Push down, steadily,
A muscle in my thigh
Tightens
While pulling to the left,
I roll to a stop. I see you.
Longing for an embrace,
Wishing you did too,
I sit, upon this car hood,
And wait.
There’s never enough
Time
To watch you, my day,
Fall
Into twilight,
As if just for me.

A Life Obtainable 

A window into ever after,
Witnessing from afar, a life
Where forests grow,
Oceans lap endlessly
And desires are still
Encouraged, sought after
And dreamed.
A place where faith,
Comes first, as our
Initial breath, while
prairie grass bows
Towards wind, steadfast.
Homes are full of heat,
Not just from bread baking,
But from love honest
and complete. Endless
Work, and time to pause
Deemed important,
Yet over time, has been lost.

Stoic Protector

Do you know the owl,
The one who sits now
Upon the middle limb,
The patchwork branch,
Of a once thriving essence?
Her skin is exposed,
Bare, light timber
Amongst veined,
Even freckled patches of,
Black and grey bark.
Owl remains perched,
Guarding at the helm,
As the brightest star sets
Behind thinning stock, and
What is now his tree,
Whether he chooses to
Believe it or not.
She’s the aftermath of
Witnessed abuse,
Pain felt,
And reoccurring sadness
As others depart.
He’s her stoic protector
And shall not fade
With the evening sun.

With or Without

She was quiet this morning,
Dawn, that is, miraculous,
Peaceful in her timeless dignity.

Two mallards skim rural water, as twin rogues,
Before taking flight with one another,
Their sky, a season of cerulean.

An ibis flirted with stoic wind,
Hardly noticed and without sound,
As her white wings rode his reliable gift.

Nature thrilled with my insistent watchful probe,
Created a warm glow from the rising sun,
Behind clouds, the color of smoke.

In the end, my eyes focused,
On a spider crawling about her web,
Intricate designer, naked to most.

Her long legs seemingly stretched across,
Compressed air, as I questioned myself, almost,
But, chose to alter my angle, instead.

Life reassured me, artistry brought into focus,
Minutes passed, comfort took hold,
As I found you there, too.

How do I know?
Alone, I briefly turned and whispered in awe,
“You’re seeing this, aren’t you?”

Hood replaced reluctantly, closed tight
Gloved hands situated
Into warm inviting pockets
I continue amongst what’s frozen