morning fuzz

While everyone is
pushing and pushing
back the morning
fuzz of autumn,
grasses bloom
in place. Children
holding parent’s
hands walking
to the bus stop
Magnolia petals
drop to the street. 

I Have Seen

It’s here in these early morning nighttime silences under shadows of abandoned office buildings— solitary light in the window, computer screens waiting to be wakened; in the silent shudders of trees and passing cyclists; here in the promise of the day that we must come to terms with the howling cries of death and hunger.

And I have seen a future of abandoned corporate office parks. I have seen parking lots deserted save for staggered cars parked with windows busted and garbage bag taped over. It is there that I have seen a future wherein the word hope has been replaced by neighbor. Longing, by community.

Where the sun-rise from the west behind thread-bare quilted blanket lies the bosom of a new day.

A Different Kind of Grey

deepening gray
clouds hang thick and low

crows scattered in
the sky and on patches
of grass, and in parking lots,

seem to be coming from
every direction.

and in my head
clouds part, and i see
that perhaps for the first
time in my life i have
outweighed the bad
habits with good.

and i feel good.

outside of Miller
Paint Co. painters
gather near the tailgate
of pickup trucks, white
pants, white coveralls,

painted and faded
t-shirts and flannels, talking
shop, perhaps a couple of them are looking for work.

and i think of
the faces of the young, of my children.

and i see the faces of the old,
of the buried.

and i see the household divided with friction,
will soon be the home of agreement, joy, and growth.