These words 
little stones
upon which 
I walk
some wet
and slippery
some coarse
but they
all lead
for those 
found behind 
have the 
footprints of 
thine eyes 

I was lost
now I’m found 
not by others 
they never came 
looking in this 
hide and seek 
but rather I
in the wood
behind the elm
under the ash
sitting there waiting 
my soul talking 
to my heart
making their plans

You can’t claim 
victim if you’re 
unwilling to stand 
any more than 
you can claim 
victory unwilling to 
fight the unwell 
can stay behind 
but the strong 
have an obligation 
take up arms 
mouth or sword 
or forever silent 

Orange turns yellow 
every day autumn 
black becomes blue
and gray white 
the sky molts
peeling away parts 
like a tangerine 
in the impatient 
hands of children 
anxiously waiting to 
find the sweet 
aren’t we all 
just like that 

Early morning iced 
water before coffee 
calm before the 
storm so demure 
hydration before ignition 
up and away 
slow burn and 
then orbit when 
things become bearable 
and then beautiful 
back to bed
and finding you 
my reentry zone 
and landing pad