Crickets and alike hear my random thoughts
Unmasked in the under brush…there is no need for abandonement…
Just a lyrical understanding of loss
Salamander, squirrel, evergreen and barren oak know of cost
Reverberation from forgotten caves
Divots into the forest of rain
Landscape reminders…we are not the same
I am only invited to release the shame
In Mother’s Nature…
She keeps me gentle
She keeps me sapient
She keeps me legitimate
She keeps me with timeless tests
She keeps me with flesh
She keeps me with dignity
She keeps me shady
She keeps me with chemistry
She keeps me with fragile, breakable reverie
She keeps me
She keeps me
…a most indulgent mother, has placed her best gifts out in the open, like air, water and the earth itself; vain and unprofitable things she has hidden away in remote places.
Laughing pine hold no sentiment for the fallen leaves.
If devotion were a winter gust…what would be just for us.
If rambling had been my disdain…no echo in refrain.
Yet, stolen from frozen time,
to lose resentment allots to listening in the dark to discarded rain and threaded foot and her traffic.
Could one become more than what red berry in powdered snow…
be my memories…distant and low?
No matter the distance in a country mile…I am nothing more than faded ilk…
propaganda with a manufactured smile.
I walk a foreboding country lane, as a conscientious observer.
The mystery of souls looming ever so close.
Behind moss capped tree trunks
snuggled beneath peeled birch bark.
A party of three, the dogs and I.
Interpret nothing…only stillness catches our eye.
To capture moments such as these; an attempt to recall a dream.
And, though the harvest is sweet…
to come back daily, my only sense of relief.
Clover still grows during this…the first hard frost.
I have always envied this walk…to clear the air.
Drudgery and all its beauty strewn about in wild fanfare.
The perpetual futility of earth’s aching limbs.
A healthy canvas for the unknowing eye, is all one will see.
Progress and perfection…languishing in antiquity.