First Autumn

The few leaves that remain

fall easily beneath.

The golden tint they possess 

is fading like the sun's warmth.

The street lamp lights stretch into the lake 

as water illuminated poles.

It's a time of great change on this

autumn night on the front range.

For it is the first moment

I have stopped to witness

all the beauty that surrounds me.

There's something about being in this state.

A state of starting new.

A state of calm, not panic.

Close to my heart forever on.

And with you by my side, I am blessed.

Frisco

The roadway lines flicker slower with every mile,

merging to create a single streak down the triangle.

Time to look away.

I turn to spot the red-draped rocks sparkling in the light.

And the river racing along the rocks that line our lanes.

It's quite the portrait.

Images focused on the here and now,

built millions of years back.

Men simply cannot recreate such a view.

Can I stay?

The triangle will end eventually

to make room for another kind of life,

but I will embrace this one.

The hills will stay gold with our potential.

Golden Empire

Two curves and I'm out.

The rearview flickers like a loose light.

Behind lies ground hollowed inside and out.

It burns from the endless sun, ending any chance the fruit will grow.

It may look like her, but don't be fooled.

This facade has no place in the Golden State.

Life's short

I see the sunrise bleed throughout the curtains,
while you sleep off the night.
The voices from the other rooms get louder
as the clock gets older.

I want to see their eyes open slowly
when I make sure they're covered.
Always believe you'll be safe and sound.
I want nothing more.

Hang in there. Please do.
I will find a better home.
Your sacrifices allow me to soar.
Now it's your turn.

Life's short.
Let's make it ours
all the way to the top,
where we can laugh and smile.

Let me go

Nearly paralytic

wondering what they'll pull next.

Our life is on a leaf in the air,

falling from a branch,

with no way of telling which way

the wind will move.

But I lie calmly,

anticipating the next landing,

the next 24. 48.
72 hours.

The Nation

We are all the same,

no matter where the sky blooms.

Crayons create the same drawings,

no matter the restaurant.

Clothes still keep us warm,

no matter the store.

We all arrived from the same atom,

the structure of which will never break.

Food is still the same,

no matter the price.

A long walk is still the same,

no matter the shoes.

Hope Moon

Forgive this state.

It's unfamiliar.

Help me find

how it used to be.

But familiar enough,

vulnerability awakes.

Unable to take down,

it has taken me.

Forgive this state.

It's tired and blocked in.

I'm fighting myself,

losing every day.

Hope Moon can help.

This darkness needs light.

Hope the hated Sun

never lights my path.

So, that's what you look like

I miss the kid.

He hides behind

a scruffy face,

his eyes still bright. 

I see a man

waiting too long.

He settles for less

as he stares.

A breaking point

comes into focus.

The man overthinks what

the kid is smart enough to do.