The Vision That Fills My Soul

Cicadas are a dog whistle to the end of summer

a bold whisper against the cool breeze and clear autumnal sky

laundry waving on a line

pencil in my life - sketch or an outline

of time passing by

like a speeding Amtrak

click clack against the rails, my heartbeat

the engine's thrum, my rushing blood

I wouldn't stop until I see that smile in front of the sun, cheeks turned up making your eyes tight and teeth like soldiers at bold attention, proclaiming thier victory.

we

dream

until colored

leaves filter sun 

and alchemize her fingers

gold and that is

the vision that

fills my

soul