Fridays open up

into brighter weekends

for song birds living on the edge–––

time frays, finally letting go

of what structure we thought we had

between our bones, between our hopes

for dreams that may, one day, come true.


Fridays open into me

and the tree that still gives shade

in the fall, although the winter not at all–––

today feels frigid to me,

even with my Friday warmth.


I can only pray for peace again,

in the opening of faulted paths and fields

I can see and smell all at once,

because the sky is open–––

like my heart on Friday.


August 12, 2014


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s