
shoulder season
gravel road and potholes
getting mud on my new shoes
got a head full of music and inside jokes
got a million things to share with you
i can get things done
i can be productive
i can be alone
still i wish that you were here

heavy light pollution
standing on the front porch, glass in hand
heavy light pollution from the apartments across the tracks
but I don’t mind, I can still see
a couple constellations
and the bright face of a wandering star