Strolling through sopping grey
Summers first reprieve
Is a whisper of autumn.
When every blade of grass is slick
From the breath of the night
And all parched land takes flight
Making way for things shadegrown
Before the big sleep.
Vagabond Prophet
Tag: bus thoughts
Running like mad,
Arms flailing
Legs wheeling
Breath burning.
The bus takes the bend
And I realize
It was never the right one.
It’s sign shouting #1
Yet as it rushed up behind me
All I could think of
Was a fear of being forgotten.
Vagabond Prophet
Green haired girls and moths on board. Octogenarians and vegetarians,
What an eclectic mix of commuters this morning.
Vagabond Prophet
Partition
Waking up late
Running to the stop
Boldy rushing through
Thickest fog.
Crashing into the partition
Where clouds meet my own breath.
– Vagabond Prophet
Bus ahead of schedule
Sit and wait awhile
For time to catch up with us.
Vagabond Prophet
Bumpy ride stops
At a ‘T’ intersection
Or is it an ‘l’ with a dorsal fin?
Perspective is everything.
Vagabond Prophet
Fourteen Minutes
Morning bus ride
Exactly fourteen minutes
To arrange my soul
In tidy little stanzas.
– Vagabond Prophet
Bus Driver
Where are we?
Don’t recognize this street.
Just like following you,
I hope the driver knows
Where he’s going.
– Vagabond Prophet
Waiting
Nose cold as glass
Sidewalk irridescent
Gardens crystalizing
I hope this bus is on time.
– Vagabond Prophet
Vagabond Prophet 