‘Heed the screams.’
Flee the fall.
The spindly woods, tell all.
At first sight,
I had been blissfully, unaware.
Then within a moment’s hesitation,
one lone oak became a pair.
For miles, the blistering winds had admonished an earthy speech…
in my muffled ear.
I only listened for the cautions they longed for me to hear.
All surrounding sounds and, alike,
While my wishes were the wind-swept tress…
The ground rumbled…stay humble.
Sifting thru the rust and the budding weeds.
This is the place to be when wonder begins to seed.
Rummaging, romping, romantics of the forest.
Decadent in their delivery.
Seeking clustered acorns
spurs of last year’s wood.
Never any thought to…rest assured.
Organic manner of giving the land a manicure.
Mother Nature has gone from global warming to a hot flash
Did you say…that
you didn’t know
Soon after the overdrawn winter…
Before the summer’s baneful glow.
Are we not the same
Did the news report a day without…
Have the skies gone aglow
Neon yellows and cosmic greens
Our shadow’s harm,
watch it go, watch it go, watch it go.
Whether or not in fanaticism
Possibly in a good-bye wave of discontent
Mother is on a ravenous tangent.
These clues to lunacy and
Knee-jerk disasters blatantly missed.
Between the stars and the middle class
Present is past, yesterday is tomorrow
No matter, the gift is fading fast.
‘Not quite right’ heard someone say
Half a continent wasted away.
Tepid places burdened in snow
New species of unknown origin
Dabbling in the science of things we don’t know.
My shadow matters… so does yours… nature needs a cure.
Congress?! -Just give me some truth!-
Ill nature can only be conquered with goodness
Momma always told me not to look into the eyes of the sun… But Momma, that’s where the sun is (not)
I ache, like the fallen tree before me.
These farming fields so…solemn, soulful and, slightly…alone.
Peace is here.
It is in the catching of our breath.
Flying on gusts for a thousand miles.
I could find the unity…
If, the terrain, and I, were all that is left.
It has been windy here.
Seems…for a whole life.
Perhaps, that is what feeds a New England appetite.
If you buy the land.
It should be worked.
If you walk the land.
It should be cherished.
If you live the land.
So shall you die.
How do we prosper when still unsure?
Ravishing the soil…is not the cure.