Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
SWB Aug 2011
The sun burning through clouds

never chomped so loud,

I'm surprised the moon's still alive.



Breaking ice in the town,

our minds floating around

cold wind throwing crystals and knives.
SWB Sep 2012
I used to ride this bike
on dirt roads
up and down
and up again.
Along the country's veins
in blessed Greencastle.
That bike with the basket-
the blue wonder
faster than the hills themselves.
I'd ride with chipped teeth
and skinned knees.
I would only stop
to help grasshoppers
off the road
or to throw mason jars
into the streams.
No watch,
no phone
no direction.
I never outgrew that marvel-
thank God for youth
and its sunny scars.

— The End —