Blessings of a Decade

Y2K loomed over us then
We burst forth from the nineties with wonder
What could this new century bring us
Visions of The Jetsons still fresh from our childhood minds
Orwell's '84 passed behind us

The blossoming happened with surprises
A change in the guard, then a tragic loss to the world
The towers came down early on
Our innocence, though betrayed
Remains with our hope, endeavoring

The growth happened in the folds of our pages
Connections bound us together in new ways, in new places
Healing the wounds of the past
Blessed and redirected by time itself
A road lies ahead now, beckoning

Driven

Asphalt winding curb to grass to trees
White paint dashed down a long highway forgotten
The miles we have tread unheeding too distracted
Missing the sky, the colors, the birds flying by

We pass under bridges undaunted
No recognizing those that pass overhead
Unrealized lives of those rushing beside us
Except for freeze frame, catching a face here, a soul there

Road winds forward through lifetimes abruptly
Lives encapsulated so alone in our travels
Seeking reason wishing adventure realizing ourselves
Missing moments, flying by us, outside our own doors

Soul of a Tree

Take any tree
gloriously standing apart
branches twisting up toward the light
knowing nothing but the light
even when the cold beats against its bark
then snow sticks, creating stark
contrast to the brown ridged surface
as does the golden sun of afternoon
those warm days glowing against green leaves
later to gracefully age
colored from life above the surface
so much depth not seen from up here
tiny roots curling tight around stones in the soil
embracing the fertile ground, or
sometimes barren land its only reservoir
yet it pulls its strength from either
shooting up from the ground
that first small green start
reaching up for the light
it knows nothing, but the light.

Desert Clues

I walk the sand, pensive
stepping backwards in my head
instead, the spiral down felt hard
watching my feet forced forward
step by step ahead of the wind
there is no stopping the progress
despite the birth pangs there
and no glimmer of beach glass found, lest
you are willing to look at the sand, pensive
birthing your soul from within