Monday, October 31, 2005
South blows the wind
Leaves lift & swirl in the leeward lies
and south blows the wind.
Heaven & hell in the whiskery wind
Vestage of snow meets its meltery end
Close your eyes dreaming its summer again
when south blows the wind.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
when October nights are waning,
when sleepless nights cry out for day
with tired eyes complaining.
Moonless starless dawnless sky
as dark as midnight water deep.
No mountains trees distinguish I
'tween breath and glance and beat.
No bird calls to signal dawn.
No rooster crows the sun from bed.
What is it keeps me going on
while others rest in silent head?
There shall not be a crack of dawn.
No sound shall signal mountain's rise.
No answers shine on questions gone
when sunrise finally paints the skies.
out of sequence, out of time.
A journeyman, traveler,
citizen of nowhere.
Here, but not settled,
present but unrecognized.
Externally circulating among friends, mere acquaintances, really.
Internally alone in a stream of people,
a casual exchange of time-filling chatter.
I am interested, sure, but recognize that,
without a connection of heart & soul,
the conversations mean little & change nothing.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
starched white and water wet.
Trees heave their heavy branches in surprise,
autumn leaves not quite shed.
Shrubs and saplings reduced to ground-hugging mounds under the load.
The dog takes a first few tentative steps off the deck,
then bounces and rolls in recognition,
trying to lure me into a game of tag,
his favorite winter sport.
The rumble of snowplows,
the squidge of traffic on slushy pavement,
the drip of the eaves,
the woosh and whomp as snow lets loose on the garage's metal roof
and plants a glacier-like mound in front of the door.
The warmth and aroma of the woodstove,
the loving smell of hearth and home.
The quiet peace that only a power failure can provide.
The exuberance of children on a snow day.
unexpected, much appreciated . . .
SNOWBALL FIGHT !
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
I feel like a vampire -
up all night, wired & on the prowl;
laying low in the daylight hours.
Progress through burning the proverbial candle from north & south.
It's 2 (AM)? Nothing new.
Striking 3? Way to be.
G'night all !
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
where have you gone?
Where have you been?
Has life provided you love,
like the love we once had,
like the love I would give,
if I were given a chance now?
aren't you curious to see
what time has done to me,
the grey hairs, the age spots,
the spare tire, the love handles?
What about the gentle touch,
the romantic heart,
the Christian soul,
Oh the music! So much music.
Lonely heart and eyesight for beauty in the world - the greens & blues of life, of earth.
Won't you come see them through my eyes?
You & I are different people now,
thanks to 25 years of change,
of treading on different paths.
And I KNOW that all that is left are the good things,
the memories of young love,
days spent at Gilford Beach,
early morning wake-up calls.
To see one another now is to build love on love, build life on life,
merge body & soul, to become whole.
At the very least, or perhaps most,
it might chase you from my dreams
and me from yours.
*only a dream*
Only a dream
that love handles.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
A flock of slate-colored juncos have alighted at Cedar Eden for a spell.
Their white tail flags flashing as the flare to a stop.
Pecking and hopping in the green, long, bent grass.
Shattering to flight at each little scare
then returning when it all turns out to be nothing.
Fall is late this year,
dark damp days and hillsides of muted colors,
narrow gold cherry leaves plastered along the driveway.
Yellow school bus groans to a stop and happy boy dashes out, runs down the drive, sending the little grey flock treeward.
Monday, October 10, 2005
The prettiest angel must eat & shit.
And might still lonesome loving be.
An ackward glance on the face of it
falls deeper than the likes of me.
Blond & pink, she draws the eye
and checks upon the note of I.
Between us comes a young buck bold
and I another tale untold.
A poet unread is nothing.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
I stare out on a darkened day,
forshortened and chilled,
damp and grey.
But realize I needn't fall
to autumn's desolation call.
Colors bright or colors dim
can all reflect upon a whim.
I cannot blame the tides of fall
for autumn's desolation call.
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
A day feeling so much of summer that it awakens a jubilant spirit within.
A thousand and one memories flood my mind,
the most prominant is sitting at a table with my little sister in Nana's garage, door open and a warm breeze sighing steadily in the high pine boughs.
Fluffy aphids began to loosely swarm at the end of last week, followed by the major swarm of obnoxious mexican ladybugs. These creatures are harbingers of fall as much as the amphibians are of spring on that first warm night rain in April. How they know the days to take flight is a mystery to me. I suspect day length and temperature intertwine in their feeble response circuits. Unlucky to thrm would be an autumn that plunges straight into icy winter conditions.
Even a few hardy crickets have something to say today. It really is a spectacular day, a spectacle of life.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
Long day at camp
Boy scouts at the lake
Smell of campfire wafts from my person
Sun & shade & loons off shore
Good times with good people.
But here now, home
Loud & bright & distracting
darkness outside envelops me inside
Leaving the campfire behind
a neccesity but not a desire