The Season of Fall

Before, we were The People
We wanted something closer to perfection
We’d die for our unity
Now We just want a break from it all
And a beer

Before, we knew to walk
We paid the price, the Cost of the thing
We’d spill our blood for posterity
Now The People talk nonstop
And ideas die


See ThisĀ 

In the new of each day
In the impossibly early 
Traffic-lights-still-blinking hour
If you dare with me
Pick up the grain of sand that represents some hope
Place it in a place not far
With goal to keep belief’s door 
Make the wish that others see to do the same 
Tomorrow, tonight you’ll say,
Invite the ocean


Living breathing poetry
Are people can’t you see
And at day’s end, the prose and skin of souls 
Is my Goodread 

Thus daylong I do gather
Good will, good faith, good fight 
For provision to warm me
As I walk the cold, harsh Night


I will always never
Need to be asked

Wondering eyes
Serene skin
Soul on-point
Convicted of glory
Lovin’ the truth
Earnest genius
Preacher boy
Stoic sovereigness

Need to be asked
To invest in you


I love that he answered the call
Hung up a shingle, of sorts
And waits bold in the Capitol street-front picture window at 8:52am
To tell us it’s never too late
But it’s time