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We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another day; and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us. Even while the earth sleeps we travel. We are the seeds of the tenacious plant, and it is in our ripeness and our fullness of heart that we are given to the wind and are scattered. —Khalil Gibran, ‘The Farewell’

[the-tenacious-plant]

June Walk

It’s 7pm but not evening

A seasonal inbetween

A light winks by a porch

Hand out, beckoning

And I breathe

Charcoal barbecue smoke

Still air, 68 degree low

I can taste the change

It’s going to rain you know

And I see

Wine roses tangled like a girl’s hair

A hedge chopped in half, laid bare

A robin spies on me from the tree

Wild and tame stand together and stare

And I hear

Someone yelling ‘come in!’

A Boeing rumbling overhead

A car with no muffler roars by

Birds signal ‘time for bed’

And I think

Walk the other direction tomorrow

It’ll be like going down a new road

Always stayed in my house

My neighborhood’s unknown

And I sigh

Home lies before me

There’s the neighbor Candy

My crimson flowers will fade soon

But not yet, not today

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]

[the-tenacious-plant]