I'm dying with these words,
When the world closes its doors.
Trying to find the life inside
to give and share,
to live a life.

Oh kindle life, give me hype.
To be productive as I ever was
The poet inside of me
has been dying as it ever has.

It comes and goes
Like as water flows.
It might be dry,
It might overflow.

Inspiration...
dying
while
also
craving
inside.

Outside life is in its green glory
springs and explodes with gusto.
Trees and plants shout with joy
irrepressible energy pulls me forward
leaps ahead from my dust and darkness
and takes me into sky from my fright
transforms my darkness into light
I thank you life for appearing in my night.  
It is in this mixture of shadows and sun
that you appear most awesome overflowing
running over the fearful edge of my soul.

Two months ago I lamented the lack of silence
between cars passing.
Never a full moment, never a breath
where the sound of one approaching
or one leaving did not intrude
upon the silence of the wind in my trees,
or the birds in my yard.

Now there are stretches of moments
where no car, motorbike, or truck
blemishes the peace.

Long moments I cherish,
until the blare of the next ambulance.