Indian Summer

Amidst the rusted rails and worn out inns
out through the wild grass; a dress
thereâs gold reflecting lives playing for your eyes
youâd be damned if you were found
before the sun, the ground
from the journey grows the need to see
unwavering proof and seditious needs
itâs embroidered in our times
and glows in idle wine
the burning need to run
toward the East, the West, the one
Within the pulsing cells of marigolds
as they relate themselves to the hills
they amplify the light and rest on through the night
so turn the pages, dear
and stare excelsior
swirling vultures how they radiate
cast a darkness on the waves
lets pray that they survive
tie strings and make them kites
as the train moves on through here
to the end and steering clear
Just hide your thoughts in the shadow of the moon
as it breaks upon the aging trees
the yearn for more dances through the leaves
like a dead-beat faustian dream
so we tie our rope to a branch and with a snap!
thereâs only one thing left to see