Life never stands quite still,
Yet change never comes in a day, an hour, a minute.
Change runs like the tide,
Rivers through rock, always winding,
Finding their way back home.
There is a power in moving slowly, in taking the time to carve canyons from the mountains,
The choice to continue to move with the motion instead of hold fast against.
One sunny day in April will not change the mountains I climb or the miles I have to go.
I can only choose to hold good days in my heart and string them together,
Let life be good when it is not perfect,
Expect from myself what I expect from my plants on my windowsill –
Sunshine, water, time, to grow.
August In July
It is my favorite part of the summer.
The air gets chilly at night,
Like fall is reaching out the window and blowing kisses onto my cheeks.
I watch the sun set over Classon Avenue.
The street is quiet as Sunday mornings,
The moon shines on my back as the sun sinks beneath the skyline.
It gives me my life, it gives me my words.
For the first time in a long time, I find myself writing.
tonight i am not scared to grow up
for a long time,
i was afraid to grow up.
that just as the grass and the sunflowers and the cattails grow,
strong and tall and beautiful
So do I.
There is a Rainbow Somewhere
And waiting to run to the car,
Through sheets of rain.
The sky is clear now and,
Clouds look like the mountains I know so well.
The light turns colors and a small rainbow is born,
The air smells of heat and dust and clean,
I breathe in and feel the trees in my lungs.
There is a rainbow somewhere,
And the promise that somehow,
The worst is through.
There are not enough things in life,
To write poems for.
But the roses bloom and I can see you in their petals,
Concrete jungles cannot change how much I love the sun.
The sweet soft scent of change is on the wind today.