Need Nothing

No, I don’t need nothing,

no, nothing I don’t already hold.

O, whether tomorrow,

O, ever tomorrow uncontrolled.

One moment of deep repose—

a thick jungle of lawn between my toes,

a paper glider landing on my nose,

curling colors of a painted wing grow,

Until they fill they screen,

and draw me in

to a place unseen,

where I’ve always been,

to somewhere so serene,

complete within,

and evergreen.

When I want too much

of what I’ve missed

to be content

with what exists,

I must remind myself

to savor this wholeness.

No, I don’t need nothing,

no, nothing I don’t already hold.

O, whether tomorrow,

O, ever tomorrow uncontrolled.

Tide

Time and tide wait for no one.

I was young when the water was rising,

but didn’t drown.

Every tumbling wave capsizing

knocked me around.

That was the first time I learned that

time and tide wait for no one.

I got stuck when the water receded,

dropped in the sand.

It was tempting to read as defeated,

throw up my hands.

But I was once more reminded:

time and tide wait for no one.

Staring out from the edge of erosion

at what the tide took back.

Floating off where the moon meets the ocean—

Whatever I lack,

well I’m not swimming out after it.

Time and tide wait for no one.

Rains

Rains

clear clutter,

make rivers down gutters,

uncover

new colors.

Rediscover all you forgot about

when your world was draped in snow.

Rains

make motion,

fill valleys

with ocean.

Stay open,

you’re not broken.

Erosion carries debris away,

and it disappears downstream.

Rains

bring summer,

wings flutter,

bees hover,

barren meadows

recover

For another chance to begin again,

and I want the same for you.

I Was Not There

When the wind picked up

and blew through my hair,

I stood still to listen

to God’s intuition.

And O, I was not there.

When the wind picked up

and turned tall grass

to waves upon the sea,

I needed no mention

of others’ intentions.

And O, I was not there.

When the wind picked up

and roared across the field in a hurry,

we made a prediction,

we ran with conviction,

sprinting through thunder,

laughing with wonder.

And O, I was not there.

Solstice

The week went slow, the year flew by

from the end of June back to last July,

when I lost my cool, swimming underneath

every heavy thing in oppressive heat, saying,

“Keepin’ bright bright bright.”

Winding back a double-decade past,

to the afternoons when I knew you last,

me without my shoes, you without your shirt,

river-walking tough, like the stones don’t hurt, singing,

“Keepin’ bright bright bright.”

And that day stretches out to the edge of night,

then it turns about, now we’re losing light,

we can see in the dark with our sunset sight,

we delay the dusk, keepin’ bright, bright, bright.

Wheels Roll Home

There’s a point, way out, past the present tense,

where our weeks away make a lot less sense.

But for now, we work with our time apart,

with a tired mind, with a hungry heart

For when your wheels roll home,

when your wheels roll home,

when your wheels roll home,

no more you roam.

Don’t go before you leave,

every second we got, we gotta make believe

that you’ll be right back, like you never left,

like you mailed yourself to your return address

In a self-stamped envelope,

you’ll revolve ‘round the globe,

But when your wheels roll home,

when your wheels roll home,

when your wheels roll home,

no more you roam.

Stubborn Man

I’m a stubborn man with a fickle plan,

given lots of thought, but no attention span.

I can change my mind, turn on a dime,

I can strike me down at anytime.

I’m the only one who can get it done.

Gotta finish this now that I’ve begun,

‘cause I’m the only guy qualified

to fix me up and ossify.

Maybe I'm strong-willed,

settled at a standstill.

Maybe I'm headstrong,

iffy, but rarely wrong.

Talk to me without the need

to make your case, to make me see

my overgrown comfort zone.

My narrow mind is mine alone.

Maybe I'm strong-willed,

settled at a standstill.

Maybe I'm headstrong,

iffy, but rarely wrong.