Cloudy Morn

The clouds attack this day
Like infinite tons of steel
Smashing the sun.
Holding the morning hostage
With no ransom,
Except a promise;
Sunshine someday.

Sky and horizon
Look the same
A green-grey-granite;
Cold as a gravestone
In the dead of winter.

Emotions emulate the clouds,
Sluggish, stupid funk;
Sinking into squalor.
Leaving behind the dregs
Of half-drunk coffee.
Give the energy to say,
“Good morning world.”

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They waited for me to return,
To the hometown I never knew;
Thinking I was their native son.
But like a vagabond gypsy,
I left to experience the world.
In every place I called home
They thought,
“This is now his hometown.”
Until I packed up and moved on;
Taking with me some of each town and city;
But always leaving some of me behind.
They waited for me to return
To the hometown I never knew.
They are still waiting.
And I am still traveling.

I wrote as I was reflecting on all the places I have lived. From the time I was born until I left home upon graduating from high school I lived in 14 different towns/cities and went to 8 different schools. Since leaving home at age 17 I have lived in 12 different towns/cities.


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Bluffs Near Gallup, New Mexico

Red Rock Bluffs

Red rock rises from the river;
Painting the dessert horizon,
Like a giant downtown mural.

Water-washed caverns
Hide some ancient artifact;
Important to someone, sometime.

Route 66 used run this valley;
Taking automobile pilgrimages
To a promise land called California.
Here they hang on to a past;
Signs and stores still carry the numbers
Emblazoned on a shield.

Look closely now!
On the ridge line
A solitary scout,
Ancient warrior;
Silent sentinel;
Seeking out danger
In the valley below;
Hearing only the whine of truck tires
And the cars on the Interstate.

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Reflections at 70

At birth
The world,
 Was a  blank canvas;
A palette,
Every color imaginable;
A brush,
Placed in my hand
To paint what could be.

At death,
A self-portrait,
Painted through decades
Of what was and is;
With permanent brush stokes
Highlighting how I lived.

A gypsy caravan
Across this beautiful world;
Stopping to paint
Breathtaking beauty of mountaintops,
Piercing pain of valleys,
Exhilaration of achievements,
Despondence in disappointments;
A tapestry of
Laughter, tears, trials, and triumphs;
A marvelous adventure
Lived with those I love.

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