These Days

Well, I’ve been out walking…I don’t do that much talking these days.  These days…I seem to think a lot about the things I forgot to do for you…and, all the times I had the chance to.

And, I had a lover!  It is so hard to risk another…these days.  Now if I seem to be afraid to live the life I have made…in song.  Well, it’s just that I’ve been losing so long.

I’ll keep on moving.  Things are bound to be improving…these days.  These days I sit on corner stones and count the time in quarter tones to ten, my friend.

‘Don’t confront me with my failures…I had not forgotten them.’

J.Browne

Scents of Creosote

I had been easily tempted to witness the burn out house.

To recollect those feelings.

To cherish my hatred.

To bemoan decades of fear and doubt.

I drove by the structure

times 1I drove by

And, drove by again.

My wanting for display began to wear thin.

Scents of creosote and thin dusky air does not change.

So, I went to raging waters to rearrange.

To evoke black soot tragedy from another’s time…could never be mine.

I had discovered the healing rains ever so kind.

#Thoughts About Dogs

Plumes of smoke fill the air.  Leaving the dogs without a care.  Four paws reliant on a whim.

Distraction…only their own personal flair.

imageedit_2_8590129259If I could live in their moment…I would.

Capturing time…neither good, nor bad…

Just understood.

 

Under the Weather

It is a cluttered step I take…under the weather.

The wilderness calls to me…

Reminding me…’I am the lost soul.’imageedit_14_2355741925

I have surrounded myself with other wanderers.

A circle of seekers…under the weather.

None of us deceived by items we do not need.

But for some there is no tourniquet for the bleed.

THEY take sips from sorrow’s cup.

And, only when the wilderness calls…enough is enough.

Under the weather lies the love.

an Age Difference

The severance of a nerve

The leftover scarsimageedit_3_6632606200

Have I ‘arrived too late?’

Must ache be my fate?

There is a static to the air…while I put aware my cares.

A great sense of having visited a temple built without brick.

A presence of ‘having heart’ in the changing of colors that loom ahead.

Watching as the fields grow…and, wane.

I hear nothing from the sheltering woods…they do not complain.

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