driftwood dreams for a sold out soul

framed like paintings on old dead canvas, my dreams are matted for the taking.

blue gray. blue green. rainbow dreams.

this season is fresh like the mist of the ocean. soft. forgiving. refreshing. the city is torn between slumber and the fruitful taste of the vine. dreamers lay wide eyed staring at clouds with their hearts grasping for answers. the squares sit cross legged with headphones playing banter of a graveside manner. yet, oh how the birds have been dancing. it's a season for the lovers. the half dead and dying. a season for the brave and the ones not only thinking of doing, but the ones who do it without thought. it's a new found glory for the backstreets of all that is everything. this my friends is the season of the dreamer.

the woods

my soul breathes in the woods. near the coastline. the western shore.

snow in the forecast. magic in the sky.

it's january. i made it through the holidays. i've been 30 for over a month. i feel alive. i really feel alive. but i only feel alive when i slow it all down and look at it… reflect on it later and make a decision on what's next. it's kinda working. guess i'm just with being aware of the wind. i'm really happy with wind.