Beneath the dark clouds, the
wheat blows gently on the farm.
I lie in bed and think about all
the loud farm machines that
will whirl into action at daybreak.
But tonight, as always,
silence is my best friend.

You slipped
away from me,
like the robins and
cherry blossoms when
spring ends,
and the fractured nights
of winter comes.
I will search the
midnight alleys, and the
mountains of Chile.
I will listen for
your sweet laughter.
I long to taste your
honeysuckle lips, and
hear your heartbeat.
If I never find you,
I will be a lost leaf
on the lonesome
vagabond wind.

The strangest thing happened
to me a while back.
I was driving a
lonely stretch of
highway.
A soft vagrant
breeze blew through
the car.
My window was
down about an
Inch.
I smelled lilies and lilacs.

My cell phone rang and
I answered it.
The news was tragic.
A good friend had
committed suicide.
A somber rain began
to fall.
The wild ride of
this carnival life
became too much for
her.
She bought a different
ticket.
No judgment from me,
I wish I could have touched
her pain, and made
It go away.

I began to think of the the
fragility of life, and how
truly fragile the
human spirit
can get.
Life can get
insidious,
with its twists and turns
and hairpin curves.
sometimes, headlong into
a huge oak tree seems
just too inviting.

Just then,
A big white bird
smashed into my
driver side window.
It was like one of those
cartoons.
Freeze frame,
broken neck with
Xed out eyes.

It was so ******* sudden
and loud,
I thought it was a pelican,
but after some thought,
I realized it was a
seagull.
I thought to myself,
It had to have seen
my car.
They usually fly
much higher.
And then I thought
that maybe,
headlong into a 69
Mustang was too inviting.
And just then,
the sun began to peak
out from
behind a big grey
cloud.