I am the blanket that covers -
your body, from head to toe;
that protects you from the night
and relaxes your evening's woe.

I am the blanket that moves -
when you turn in troubled sleep;
keeping the dreams more safe
as you're falling into the deep.

You slumber under my cover -
as the sandman creeps on in;
stealing away before dawn
as the sun slips over the rim.

I am the blanket that loves you -
from your head to the tips of your toes;
no one suspects our belonging
to each other -  nobody knows.

I am the blanket that covers -
every fiber of your dear soul;
that stretches from end to end
the body that makes you whole.

The wind was cold and chilly
blasting over corridors of sand;
the underpass took us through the overpass
echoes in the tunnel part of my plan.
My dog's name rang out like thunder
bouncing loudly off the concrete walls;
in the desert, far away from town,
far from any sight of malls.
Hints of rain formed in the clouds
but it just added to the walk;
in the hills of little growth
where there is no needed talk.
Traffic's noise was quickly fading
as we climbed into those hills;
they took us west of busy streets
from formal dress and fancy frills.
Out under under skies that ran forever
to mountain ranges rising tall;
where we ran out of highways
or the sight of any wall.

How healthy is your heart?
is it evil or is it good?
do you strive to do what's right?
behave,  just as you should?

Man sees the outward being,
but God looks upon the heart;
just whose child are you?
of whom are you a part?

The way of the world's not right,
they're deceived by the father of lies:
unmoved by honest emotions,
unmoved by sorrowful cries.

Man's ways are not His ways,
man's ways are not the path;
they trouble the one on High,
and only incur His wrath.

How healthy is your heart?
does it follow the way of the Lord?
dos it seek to escape the justice,
of His terrible swift sword?

January skies are clear and cold
they hold no hint of spring -
the sun provides no warmth
of what the future brings.

The snow comes without warning
soft and white and silent -
it's lovely to behold
fluffy, wet and pliant.

January skies are pale in color
the blue is often missing -
the night is swift in coming
more daylight now I'm wishing.

The winter seems to drag its heels
it stays around too long -
I'm longing for the green again
and the start of April's song.

January skies are somber
dismal, gray, depressing -
it comes and will not leave
its end is beyond guessing.

Howdy George -
Here I am in sunny Arizona,
the heat is fine and mellow;
it warms the bones real nice,
I'm a fortunate, happy fellow.
The sky is very blue and clear.
I can see for miles and miles;
the people here are friendly,
they're tanned, full of smiles.
The women, are most lovely,
light-browned, very charming;
and their smiles are best of all,
totally disarming.
In the distance, purple peaks,
twice as high as here;
in the clearest air I've seen,
they seem to be quite near.
There's something special here,
that old-time places lack;
I'm already indoctrinated,
and I might not make it back.
See, I've put all cares aside,
and I'm drinking ice-cold beer;
but still I say to you, old friend,
sure wish that you were here.

- Dave.

The weather's mild for winter
like a January thaw
perhaps a quirk of some kind
of nature's improbable law.
We get rain instead of snow
we get snow instead of rain
it happens frequently
****,  here it is again.
A t-shirt & long-sleeved shirt
they keep the chill away
I hike a spotted muddy trail
as morning leaves its stay.
The sun plays hide and seek
with cotton colored skies
the lake is hosting mallards
I hear their winsome cries.
It doesn't seem like winter
in fact, it's more like spring
and as always, I'm enchanted
by what the weather brings.

Must we go on like this?
no embrace, no kiss?
must we fight once more?
when will you walk out the door?
Leaving me and love behind
with someone else for me to find
can't we reconcile the past
and rescue out lost love at last?
Must we go on like this?
ignoring things that once we missed?
passing each other in silence
all that's left is violence.
First the slap, then the push
no more beating round the bush
leaves a sad and tragic ending
that is way past mending.
Must we go on like this?
what happened to the marriage bliss?
I sit and ponder, think and muse
the day it all went down the tubes.