Through the broken glass
Came the rising sun
Daylight
Curled in down sleeping bag
Vapor breath in morning cold
Wanderer without a home
Fallen through the cracks
Liken to the shattered light
Visiting my empty dreams
Clown on a monk”s journey
Path from no harm
Pockets empty of monetary exchange
Beggar in dirty clothes
Food stamps
From apple orchards of Washington state
Peaches in Palisade Colorado
Lived the migrant life when young
Forty years back in time
Dreaming back before poetry written
Hatched out under Rocky Mountain moon
Many habitants” memories living in my head
It”s always been a steep climb