Wanderer by Trade

Purpose rolled down the icy hill into an embankment of doubt.  The, rare pockets of hesitation…deliberate and empty.  Our walk falls into pace, along with unflavored pieces of rock candy, dripping from the pines.

Frequently, I am reminded of the ‘waddle’.  A wintered saunter in which steps are shuffled, in smaller strides.  And, the big toe, extended, within the shoe, pointing slightly inward.  Akin to taking one’s first steps.

Gifts of used snow find their way to the sleeve made of  tired flannel.  Pouches, canvassed by a jacket not quite new, find themselves the recipient to Mother Nature’s tears.

Our destiny, now, re-learning how to stroll in the cold.

A visitor to our little chaotic scene?

Would offer up a tow device.  In the shape of oblong timber…Color, fire engine red.  

Perhaps, an earth visitor would also inquire,

“A common sense tool for any Northern Native…fool!”

However, our marching orders come from the beat of a different drum.  For us, there is no multitude of purpose, no sanctioned, sanctuary.

It is a simple and pure, daily reflection.  A meditative chance to walk away the haunts of the upcoming day!


Fancy That

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Nothing but a speck.

Ominous in its dual respect.

Nevermore, the same as before.

Therefore, by no means, a goodbye.

Should have seen that with both eyes.

A guess would be…it is just something we all must do.

Pardon the expression,

but even the gods love fools.

Affinity for the journeys without a destination.

Pride for the hymns without a church.

Songs without lyrics that lay between the pines and the birch.

Only by chance today…did I reach out and touch faith.

By pure slender luck, a sense of something great.

Touring a mind’s eye…I took the bait.

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A fool’s morning folly


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Every morning, I start with a good cup of coffee.  A snug with a family pet.  And, an upsetting, humorous glance, at what is considered…the News.

And, almost every morning, I think,

‘Fuck, I am great!’

I say this to self…within the first few moments of being a participant in the day.  However, with some clarity, a full cup of caffeine and a shower.

The following self inventory begins…

I need to take better care of my spouse.  I need to keep an eye on my mother’s medications.  I need to improve the yard from brown to green…now that it is above freezing for a day.

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Franklin, New Hampshire

The list goes on and on and on.


Eventually, after the conditioner is semi rinsed from my hair…I realize that the world will not be conquered by me today.

Than I say to myself…simple words for a complex person…

‘Practice.  Not perfection.  Fake it til you make it!’

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If a fool can see their own folly, in this they are wise.  But the fool who thinks they are wise, they are indeed the real fool.