Legacy is;
knowing where to hang your hat
and then knowing when to grab your coat.

I have an ocean of blankets forming warmth in my bed but I
am still shaky. Frantic. With whatever my heart--
going off like an Olympian's--has been feeling lately.
To which I wish I can choose not to oblige, at least more than I
get to do so in contrast to when I do to my brain. But
you have been visiting my mind too often and too much
back from the moment I saw you out of the corner of my eye
(...)
If I ever had you.

I'll write a poem for you every day we meet,
silently hoping one day to knock you off your feet.
I could sit and make lame rhymes for weeks,
only if this intrigued you would I feel complete.

It's so hard to tell if you'll feel this or not,
no doubt if it reaches your hands my face will be hot.
Rhyming words to steal a spot next to you,
don't really know if it will work or not.

Just know I'll try my hardest to earn that spot. One day ill have the courage to ask if you like me? or not?

For now, let's have fun.
You're a bit adventurous, let's go for a run
barefoot through creeks and rivers,
we'll accomplish things that will leave shivers.

Its 4am and I still fight sleep
I hope this pit doesn't get too deep
if it does I pray no one weep
because I have taken a huge leap
as I have worked all night and defile sleep.

**The effect of lack of sleep... takes you so deep when you finally fall asleep, that they may be forced to make a hip while digging deep thinking you have been defeated by sleep

Alas! YOU have arrived
To soak up my words
May you drink them in
Delight in them
For they were penned for YOU
I know not your name
Nor will I see your face
But, you were on my mind when I wrote them

I knew you would come one day

And be touched by these few words
Not yesterday, not tomorrow, instead today
How was I to know the time
The timing I leave to you

I am just glad you came

Its never too late to proceed
For the words in my poems
Are meant for just the right moment
Filling a need
Easing some pain
Perhaps they turn your frown upside down

That is why ...

I continue to write

And ...

YOU continue to read

wasn't it time who leads your footsteps to me?
but the time was so wrong and so do we
our love sinks very fast like the sun into the sea
how I always thought we were meant to be

and if by any chance the time made its apology
I wish your footsteps find their way back to me

-

"I'm not promising you anything,
but if I ever come back to you with a ring
you have to promise me you'll say yes"

*"I promise"

We were so right for each other,
like the sun
and the
moon,
but our timing was off,
and the sun had to rise too soon.

How does the rancher learn to dance
The annual rhythms of the land?

When do we bring the cows, bawling,
From open summer to sheltered winter pastures?
When is it time to bring the stubborn bulls
To the empty, urgent cows,
Or to remove them from contented cows,
Grown placid in the heaviness of calves?

How do we know the time
To round up the sweltering herds,
Bringing the bellering calves to brand?
Or when do we cull the frightened heifers,
Lucky in their selection, but uncertain?
When should we pare the weanlings,
And when call we the buyers?

And, when is the time for hiking forty miles
Of rusting fence,
Replacing posts,
Mending broken wire
Before the changing of pastures?

And when is the time to come to ease,
To sense the satisfaction
In seeing grazing cattle,
Tails swishing away the black flies of June,
Moving through gray-green prairie grass
On their way to cool creek water?