Those Are the Nights -

Spring time. Spring
and Fall - those are the hardest
times for to stay put. ...often
I have wondered if it were accident,
or not; those are the same times
the geese fly - the wind
blows.

...when a lone moon
floats high in the tattered cloud,
when a soft wind moans
through darkened branch
while somewhere, both
above - and below -
the lonely geese
cry
one to another
on their long
north,
south,
bound
runs.

Some lay the blame
at ancestry's feet, others
in an avoidant psychology -
or a nature needing to see
more than can ever be seen
from one place. Whatever
the reason you would blame,
these are the nights - more
than any other - that I want nothing
like I want to disappear
into the darkness
like a hundred times
before.

No destination -
but to see where
I end up this time...

_{(to a Friend :: 2011-04-14 @ 04:09:39)}