On The Western Wind

Later I will go sit out on the lawn and ponder the cyclical callings

A westerly breeze will ruffle my hair and whisper

Of such mysterious potential, so much yet to come

So much to see and do and all of it tinted a pale gold for warmth

It will be exactly as you imagined

Not easy, but not so hard as everyone said

And all I ask is not to be deprived of these little joys

Lying by the open window

Sunlight pooling in my palms

Americanos sipped deep in the evening

Paper creatures twirling by the ceiling fan

In the distance, on the western wind like a wistful train horn

A fiddle can be heard

And, early into the morning, many voices raised in song