Day 56

Sometimes every song on the radio
sounds like The Counting Crows

and I’m carried back through to a memory of every  August and Everything After

for years, I carried her broken heart in me
a forgotten cancer,  sitting in the body

where some other vital thing once sat.

Day 57

always winding roads transform
into a series of small, endless spaces
filled with a dream a memory a moment
forever unfolding into an eternity

Day 58

first light my night’s
last cup of coffee

put on a fresh pot for the day crew
before going home to sleep

Day 59

embrace these lines
tied to another Fool’s Spring

Day 60

crisp morning, clear air
the wharf retains the memory of high water

as we hope towards the beginning
of cruise season