Paint

A small building with colors 

Symbols

Hands held out to catch

Behind the scene 

Sharp Ridge

Lovely yard with a new garden 

Love

We take the ships to the seas of everything 

Some harbors safe

Beams 

Hope and somber 

Teething 

Skin darkening 

Water softly 

Old roads new beginnings 

A young boy moves his body like a butterfly

Valley

No stillness in the swing 

Full cascades now

Allow it to surprise you

Crash

These waves are the life cycle of self 

Move in the breeze after resistance 

I am the poem 

I am the street

I am the hill with new flowers

They make the meals inside where its dank and symphony plays

No pictures not still

This home is real

Smells of seasons and chance

Hope filled with bulk flours

Seeds of the past 

Feed

Animals eat the scraps

We walk the crop lines in the evening just before dark

Left in the distance a peace offering for the wolves

Wild dogs with no chance

They protect souls 

Hearts with big ideas

Loving gracefully like manners of the past

Small children pop bubbles near the old burnt down barn

No laws left

We scatter our intent 

As we put the needle down

She sings 

Blues

Ballad

Mystery of loss and gain

Simple hues in the distance

Clean air purifying moments

Dirt roads like the wedding

Old hats and straw

Grit

Simple

Another way to make good on the promise

Owe yourself

Owe the universe

Fall back in a moody river of all things risked and ignored

Here