Finding A Simpler Time

Bicycle wheels, spokes out of routine,
we try to ride through the sunlight
peeking through tunnels of trees.
Like on Magnolia street, with Spanish
moss hanging in soft lime curls

low enough for us to graze as we spin
onward. Trails of memories lead us
to the shore of Ana Island, surrounded
by cigarette smoke and tapestries covering
the beach, trinkets holding each sheet

against the wind; a tiny bell, or a leather
purse… Threaded with all the strings
of simpler times, only heartache to us now,
etched onto skin or in the sage-covered
hut of the heart. But close your eyes,

breathe in the salted winds, however
rough–you have to come out into the open,
into a clearing, and rest–
Sunflower eyes,
turn toward the sun, let kaleidoscope light
give you strength, reach toward airy skies.

for MK

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