out of the cage and off to the races,

cutting a path to the forest filled places,

easing into the times we will never forget,

as the travelling becomes like familiar faces and

none of the clouds are strolling along today,

orange light has revealed details of

fleeting moments leaving the sunset in the dust,

leaning on my shoulder you sigh, sing, and drive,

ashes in the mud and puddles split by tires,,

nine little trees with pinecones flowing in the wind,

directions that change as often as the road curves,

some of the hilltop scattered with small leafy shrubs,

crossing the rocks while tumbleweeds crawl alongside,

arranged toppled posts connect spiny wire,

places where the recent ghosts still roam at noon and midnight,

even the stones know what song is glowing…