Hazy Sky

there’s a hazy sky over the suburbs, the wind whispers down from the gray

i stepped outside, opened my eyes and greeted the brand new day

it’s a quiet sunday morning on the cul-de-sac 

the outlook on the horizon is blurred

the skies aren’t getting clearer and the answers are no nearer –

than they appear, guess i got what i deserved

last night me and my dog went out walking in the fog, 

we took that trail by the underpass – 

that curls down toward old highway eight

the headlights in the haze kinda put me in a daze 

i went through my metaphysical transcendent little ritual

and ended up contemplating deep thoughts while in a trance-like state

there’s hazy sky over the suburbs, the wind whispers down from the gray 

i stepped outside opened my eyes 

and saw the same things i seem to see each day

on that blind divided highway by the funeral home 

near the babbling of the waterfall’s cascade

while in a mesmerizing trance, in the pocket of my pants 

I found the tickets to last year’s memorial day parade

i was lost in a yellow sea of dandelions 

while my dog was chasing butterflies by the stream

now it may have been coincidence or by fate i found those tickets 

just as the sun broke through and finally started to beam

in the crawlspace beneath my house are 2 small aqueducts 

where the overflow from the water pipes creates lagoons

here you’ll find the circle of life, lice eaten by mice 

and the mice are devoured by snakes and raccoons 

it reminds me of how i wanna go to die in the bahamas 

and lie sprawling under a god-scape of endless blue

but before i go there to disappear in thin air 

there’s a little more meat still left on the bone to chew

so with the light of day diminished and this soliloquy almost finished 

i’d politely like your attention while i continue

for the first time ever seen in this vicinity –

an eagle’s nest sits high among the pines

i saw it out by the cemetery where my mom and dad are buried 

as i looked forlornly toward the western sky

i’d do anything to be sitting in our lawn chairs again 

and watch the sun set with them one last time

but they’ll always live in spirit and i know i’ll always feel it 

each time i see the eagle flying by

on the outskirts of town is a barbed-wire fence –

above which wildlife must never ever climb

but on one of my walks i saw it jumped by a fox 

who ran wildly through the swamp toward the county line

and we’ll never know if he crossed that line 

but i’m certain if he didn’t he died trying

as for me what’s up next, i’ll also hop that fence

and follow that fox’s tracks for awhile