Jane Johnson Poems

I have erred long ago, finally I must let it go.
I see then I didn’t know, and now I will be free.
Extra baggage as I go, only serves to make me slow.
I make the choice to let it go. The choice is up to me.
...

In the early morning, long before I rise,
the wind screams down Red Canyon,
I hear it’s mournful cries.
...

A lonely train whistle is heard in the night,
dreamers are tempted to up and take flight.
To places like Nashville where town folks all say
a good country picker can have a hay day.
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The winds of change are blowing, blowing from the West.
Listen to the wind. Will you pass the test?
Will you float up higher, reaching for the light?
Or will you stay for one more day until we’re out of sight?
...