it wasn't quite spring
but things were starting to look different
a man and his boy were leaving their town
with a dreamer's intent

the man said softly
into his impressionable son's ear
"there's grass that grows greener than emeralds
but it doesn't grow here"

on a windless day
they turned their backs on caution and houses
deserting the glass and nails that contained
their respectful spouses

they knew they could be
the beloved that others would follow
or the foolish, regrettable mistakes
the horizon swallowed

the man told the boy
that security doesn't come cheaply
"the roots of a tree trade the chance of choice
for its stability"

your head in the clouds
their feet on the ground
they'll gladly keep what you have risked
when you want what may not exist