Mother Sky

Forty three: northbound 

on a fretless whim, 

wind licks chills down my spine.

I stare my soul into it 

the boundless horizon line.

The music loud 

so heart can hear it. 

My lips churn a deeply longing melody

to play the dread away.

Against the orange city haze 

I search for her wisps: 

the mother sky. 

She sings her loudest tonight. 

The parking brake crunches 

as do the fine grains underfoot.

Now lumbering, saltless waves

consume the conscious pale. 

The sea and I seem to rhyme. 

On a line between water and beyond

I see her dancing. 

A taste of nature's finest art: 

one night only 

and the tickets are free. 

My feet tread their own path 

in any direction but away 

as if my sand swayed steps 

would make any difference to infinity. 

Chaotic energy collides inside and over

washes a familiar feeling; but tonight, I

have been gifted its name: nostalgia…

for the now.