The sky is blue because we are looking at a mirror

And our sky sees sadness

It cuts through every other color of the rainbow

And shows us the deep blue veins that run through our planet

It is a very simple sky

One that only shows a reflection of what is below

One that feels like many at certain times in different places

Since the sun is always trailing near

Showing us the variations in our landscapes

It’s blue because we want it to be

Not because it has to be

We could not stand to see to another color

I’ve been in this slump for too long and counting

There’s an error within me, somewhere

From the moment my eyes blink open

I strike out

And can’t move past that action for hours

My dreams ride a dugout through crystal rivers

It’s an overnight windup

Only to wake up

On the cold, hard mound

Called reality

I can see the diamond

Up ahead

Yet, with every step I take

There’s a catch

And the score regresses

Is this batter meant to break?

Or rather to balk

In the face of withdrawal

Setting a new pitch

Forbidding the ball to be dropped again

I’m eager for a shift

Where a new lineup is ready

And patterns are broken

So my plate may serve life

Fully and wholly

Clover called me over

A blessing

In a potato field

Legend says

It’s luck

But here

I am the rainbow

Walking

A sprig of green

Is no match

For self belief

As I brew

My own fortunes

And pat tales

Back into their cavities

I will dance this jig forever

She lied

and she kept on lying

Awake

As I laid

Parallel to her intentions

I want to know

How it feels

To see the sun

Come up

In the Grand Canyon

At the Start of the

New Year

I want to hold

My gaze

I will not budge

Even if a meteor

Comes down

And builds a million more

Tiny canyons

I want to kneel

Soft, still

As a creature

Who will howl

Totally oblivious

Of it’s liberty

Isolation is dangerous

Independence is taboo

Loneliness is ominous

You have nothing without

A tool

The gallon of water

Spills on the dust

And I’m left

With a paste

A crow flies by

As I look up

Is this a sign?

Should I be afraid?

This crooked world

We live in

I may go berserk

One day

Maybe I’d rather

Be this aerial shadow

Flocking to

My sprain

The water has run out

And the sun is up

It’s time to search

For more

Yet I wonder

If I hit vertigo

What more the canyon

Has in store

This doesn’t count as anything really odd or unusual. Well, maybe to you, but to me it’s completely expected. Every Christmas morning starts in the dark. Truly, my internal alarm clock goes off way before it’s even dawn on Christmas morning. My sister and I are excited to pour out the contents of our stockings while we wait for the rest of the family to rise. Although, every year it’s the same. Chocolates, socks, little cute hair accessories- all your typical stocking stuffers come out. And every year, some new kind of miniature flashlight. Thanks Dad. He airs on the side of caution and frequently repeats that quote, “Ya never know when you’ll need it!” In his strong Midwestern accent. I really hope you can picture this. Does this happen in your family? Do you also have a collection of 2 dozen mini flashlights waiting for their turn to be switched on?

I’m not complaining. It’s kind of exciting to see what version was plucked for us each passing year.

Although, I wish I was 10 years younger and still able to receive the junior version- A colorful, velcro, finger light. Now those were a blast.

Over the hill

And far away

The plan I once had

Rolls off

Further and further

Down

Sinking so low

That the weight

And my worth

Won’t let it come up again

So, I binge

I shake

And I fail to see the other side

Of the hill

A new peak

One I haven’t seen before

Comes out

But only when I am

No longer drunk

Only when I shed

The blubber that keeps

My eyes low

When I no longer hang

Onto what was before

I must confess that

This a true confession

And that the following

May be hard to read

Or hear

As you speak it aloud

Just to see how it sounds

I don’t want to talk anymore

I’d rather just write

Have someone else do all the talking

Hire me

I’ll take it down word for word

Fire me

Let’s read it back

I must confess that

All I want to do

is put words

On a page

And fill that space

That I struggle to close

Between my lips

While you do all the talking

I was a virgin and you were the tree

Present together

For one moment

Like the birth of a star

I picked up the cranberry that sat at your feet

Then looked up

At the tinsel wrapped around your trunk

And the lights in your eyes

Now you leave withered

No more branches

Just a cane

As I sing my carol

And say so long