Iv been walking for hours
I'm wiped out
Been one of those days
No place to stop
Get a little shade
Regain my strength  
I may stumble
But I will not fall
I may wander the road a bit
hobble through the ditch
But I will not fail
Hours yet to walk
but I will press forward

My haven
patch of sky so blue
Leaves playing with sunshine
as it falls noiselessly
through the canopy of the tree
Everywhere ghosts of
my growing up long ago
slip words into my thinking
Milk of the mind overflow
the paper cup
drink hearty of the stiff brew
Everywhere sunshine
brings back the day
To all that long past
to all the salt
and sugar of my living
It's all just road
Not a thing to fear

The walking man
Never celebrated
Never the envy of enthusiast
Wanting to grow up and be like him
His is a silent sport
His is ritual and notation
Every step accounted for
Every stride measured
Every restless sleep
A primeval scream
Someday he may run
Someday someone may take notice
The walking man
Knows this path
Every pebble
Every blade of grass
It is his bible
It is his god

She is professional class
Golf shirt and aviators
Brand name pro running shoes
Deep tan and college girl smile
The volleyball court is her kingdom
She's in the zone
On the hot Florida sand
Points made
And pounds per square
But all that matters is keeping
The edge and pushing past
Performance and skill
Like a well-oiled machine
She shouts the call
And smooth response on her feet
As she slams into the sand
Saving the ball and the game
Just a woman in the crowd now
Packing her gym bag
Wiping away the game sweat
Aches return here and there
But her performance
Shines in her eyes

Middle of the night
I flee my home on foot
running desperately away
but I carry my heart with me
and all the unfounded fears contained
with all the heartache shadowing my every move
like an apparition of some macabre scene
in some movie
clings to my fleeing form
terrifying and surreal...

Middle of the night
I flee my warm home
into the cold of night
because I cannot find a silent place
between all these screaming worries haunting me
will I survive the coming day
will I be defeated in fighting for my place in the world
will it all come to naught
all the sweat blood and tears
poured into my daily bread

I have seen bad days
that I never thought I could survive
now I cling to that as the light at the end of the tunnel
a hope that the past is the blueprint of today
I need a silent place between the moments
center myself and regain my strength
I will fight on

Winter grips the
Harvest tree
Stripped of proof of life
the once-vibrant colors
lay decaying in the dirt
Turned brown like the
Fallow field
The riches that grew there
Hauled away
It feels as if all life
in this place has been
Spirited away
leaving the shed skin
proof of life's abundant harvest
Scattered about like
like a trail of tears
Proof of life escapes me
As my once vibrant colors
Lay decaying on the poem's page
The harvest tree to be
My forever home

I feel it all starting
To slip away now
Just on the edge of perception
Tell tale flickers of movement
Away from the center of my mind
A trick of the light perhaps
Motion more imagined than real
The inevitable...
My age slowly tightens its grip
Steals away what memory
Once served swiftly with clarity
Now stumbles back to me
Hazy and unclear
The inevitable...
The running man
Has slowed to
An inevitable crawl
Soon I will meet whatever destiny
Bears my name
the Inevitable....