Missing the Escape

I miss early mornings the most

The ones I never wanted to see

The ones that led to open fields

Of newly cut grass

The kinds that stain your knees
I miss the hot hot sun 

Wrapped in a blanket 

Of cracked desert mud

That pours over hills 

Allowing creatures to dig homes 

But only the ones that know

How to run

From the flash floods

That carve new paths

As they rip through the valley
I miss the marsh 

That held magical fish

That eluded our bait 

Until finally they decided it was ok to die

Slippery and smooth

Lifeless eyes

Rainbow bellies 

Speckled with spots

We watched them fight

As they changed their minds

But once that string is threaded

There’s no going back

Even if you do know how to swim upstream 
I miss the dirt roads that had to be traveled 

Before that sun beat down

Walking at night instead

Listening to chirping and howling

The voices of animals checking in for the night 

Silence meant trouble 

A full moon pouring over dry brush 

That posed in all its glory

Letting the dark hide under its twisted limbs 

The nocturnal scurrying of animals too afraid to come out during sunlight

Friends and foes alike
I miss open windows 

That let the dry breeze in 

As we covered our naked ankles 

With thin cotton sheets 

Just enough to give comfort

Without heating our already sticky skin

Grainy water in a warped glass beside the bed

Hair braided out of the way

Watching the silhouette of mountain cut outs changing shapes

As we drifted willingly to sleep

Where I would dream of escaping this place

That one day I would look back at fondly

Remembering the magic of imagination 

The hope of possibility

And the guidance that was an open road


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