After rain, sunlight scatters down
Bright zest of sky
Brushed into blue, a stale old cloud
Remains an IV drip line curled
Like an old man’s frown
The ground knows it doesnt stay
Knows of misted up water, throwing down through shroud
The tree long to see all sorts
Reaching out, growing every day

Old Man’s tears not just morning dew
Tired eyes of deep bruised purple
Not deep enough for the tree
Will he feel too when the rainfall goes?

When the water wisps off
A sun-burn of bark, their scaling skin
Bound in ground, burning in the noonday sun
Save their kind, they drop them to the floor
Their warm grasping shadows droop over
Growing their, same soil all for them to see more
To be dug by squirrel and worm
Hold their station firm
Old Man cloud storms a over a new hill

Dulcet words, drifting silent through the telephone line.
To descry and practice palmistry, see their heart line.

5:15, waiting, stuck in the post office again.
Checked my phone for attention, clocked out from work's confines.

Work to stave off hunger, stressing, a chore filled weekend.
monotonous, chugging to stay out of the bread lines.

Stuck with that tension, heavy textbooks, and starved checkbooks
We tap their name to call, to consider our repine.

Driving down the sunset laden road, running from home.
The clicks, dings of texts, newfound mistakes breath down my spine.

I gaze through the traffic, road signs, iconographic
Each full up on luck, until the cop provides his fine

So attached to these devices, our lives caught on screens.
Should we take it for granted, just part of His design?


The struggling reach out hands, from the bottom of their heap,
Their system, quite the firm one, no room for our opine.

Some believe their dreams, are in government powerpoints,
others forget dreams, spend time praying on the divine.

How can they keep their comfort, while wishing all that ill,
To die without a purpose, is that what they enshrine?

"Oh Nathan, why bother waiting for nothing to change?",
I scoff, a tear falls, as I reach to hang up the line.

Fierce are the tears, of a time long past
Man all alike, stuck grasping with strife
As forgetfulness, is our common sin

The ill despise, the wise, neat, and tidy
Their paths all twisted in time
Fierce are the tears, of a time long past

As perhaps, the keys left in lock
The birthday, celebration, chore, left without thought
As forgetfulness, is our common sin

All the pain of tragedy is forgotten
Joy too, gone with those decades
Fierce are the tears, of a time long past

Mindset and mind, all is outgrown in time
They long for its return, but
As forgetfulness, is our common sin

The regret is feared, and flow will their tears
Moments captured in photo, they hold
Fierce are the tears, of a time long past
As forgetfulness, is our common sin.