Lazy Sunday dreams unfold
Like a lazy summer rainstorm
Drizzly clouds drift low in sky
No motivation in sighing
Beats a drum that yearnings call
To escape this urban jailhouse
Where the walls grow taller high,
And the concrete streets a prison
But the winds in distant woods,
Call, “Escape into the wildflowers.”
And a beach beckoning, warm
And a camping fire’s promise
Lazy eyes scan maps in mind
For escapes within a hundred
Miles before the weekend slips,
And the city holds, a heavy
Grip around this restless heart,
Searching still, where freedom roosted
And the world was vast, the roads
Endlessly winding toward the
Open sea that calls within.