Turkey Vulture Dust (day 1518)

As Sun chooses a new neighbor
A turkey vulture closes its eyes
And lets a cold shadow fall upon
Over a dusty ledge of an outcrop,
Shaking sporadically to warn gangsters
Of the lonely outback;
Let their eyes attend elsewhere.
This is a restless moment
Which comes nightly,
A fact us villains can never forget.

Ever Field (day 1516)

To be in a field of yellows here,
Set aside and lightly dusted.
Times we open hearts,
And times we take our shelter,
There are times we can wish for more,
Green it grows it grows it grows.
A dusty footstep leaves a story here,
Wild weeds share ancient scent
That blows and blows and blows
And blows about our ever field.

Ferry Loads (day 1515)

I was caught between a Ford F150 and an overloaded Subaru station wagon,
A family of 6 had stuffed her so tight their hands were all hanging out the windows,
Each with a cigarette loosely dangling there. 
I had packed modestly, as usual. 
My father had taught me years ago the beauty of a single pair of undies. 
My copilot was fanning herself with a rolled up magazine the terminal operator had casually offered her,
Nobody could think straight with such heat. 
The huge doberman hanging out in the back of the Ford had it’s tongue rolled out so far it seemed rather comedic to us, 
Poor dog was probably suffering back there. 
Waiting there was a bustle of excitement to and fro,
Like watching an ant hive;
Some things we just never understand,
Seemingly busyness of humans and ants for no particular reason identifiable. 
We waited thirty five minutes there and watched,
Every single one of us in that oversized parking lot,
As the ferry slowly pulled into its parking spot and unloaded a few hundred passengers,
Eagerly anticipating our own turn to single file our way into a large metal box, freshly whitewashed.

Proper Soldier (day 1514)

My warrior became a proper soldier,
Fell in line and obeyed command.
It was a salty tongue to bite,
It had its perks, it still had fight. 
And when the road was muddy with
A thousand footsteps come before,
It was a comrade there to say:
We’re here with you all the way, mate. 

Predicting (day 1511)

This is a window.
This bilge is a dance
That lifts souls into grace,
Purifying attack
And forgetting to release
And lying down, prone,
To accept every torrent
Lapping at this vessel
Without expectation,
Without predicting
And judging little nuances
So defining our spirits
As if they were character flaws.
Don’t let this come as a surprise.
Don’t fall down blankly,
Dumbstruck by unmanageable inputs
And acting out in ignorance.
No, this is a window;
Cleanly un-hinged and placed into
A four corner boxed view
Into unexpected.

Sweet Salty Kisses (day 1509)

I imagine you’re an ocean.
I imagine you’re so full and buoyant
That my hide is held afloat
Through this warm summer night.
I imagine your strong winds
Fill my sails with speed,
Sending my wake into places
I’m not looking behind.
I imagine you’re sweet salty kisses
Touching my lips,
Enlivening me to my breath
Refocusing my attention to the little drops
Left about my goosebump covered skin.