waiting out winter

once more
the low sky fills
with gray tones

the trees seem
as dead spiders

and all waits
the coming storm

the last of winter
holding fast

the past week’s
glimpse of spring
caressed our spirits

so we’ll make use of

finding the summer
in our hearts

for it is not yet
outside the window

(D. James)


we ride when the sun sets

And I will
rip up the night

raise hell
for the hell of it

ride until the
road rolls up
behind me

until my tires
burn off the rims

and the sun
comes up to
stop me

in my tracks

(D. James)