Sadness, despair, depression, madness
Are the words that entrap my mind when looking at the bland brown house.
The one house with all grey walls.
The one with the single tan car going back and fourth.
The one where even when we exited our drought, no bright flowers began to sprout.
The one that belongs to a dear Ms. Sky.

My new job started normal, until I met my boss - Ms. Sky.
After that the day was complete utter madness.
Nothing still has yet to sprout.
At Ms. Sky’s house.
I was meant to be at her office first, but I ended up being fourth.

Vigil


The woman climbs into bed with her sleeping husband,
as she’s done thousands of times, though never in a bed
seven stories above streets dusted with ice crystals and cinders.
Sounds of the unit at night: beeps, the rustle of sheets,
a fan dispersing heat evenly in the room.
We can’t know what dreams infuse the woman’s sleep.
When dawn comes, she may give no thought to the empty house,
miles from here, where they raised their children,
watched them fly away to Manhattan and LA.
The house will be there when all this is done,

Beautiful day,
hold me tight.
Show me birds
in high blue flight.
Show me bare branches
once clothed in green.
Show me fields of
waves serene.
Help me look beyond
things i can touch.
To see God's eyes,
I love so much.

Rick