Stood Humble

‘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.

Without understanding,

I only listened for the cautions they longed for me to hear.

 

All surrounding sounds and, alike,

its scenarios…stumble.

While my wishes were the wind-swept tress…

The ground rumbled…stay humble.

Organic Manicure

Earthbound melody.

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

and

spurs of last year’s wood.

Never any thought to…rest assured.

Organic manner of giving the land a manicure.

Shadow’s Harm

Careless Shadows

Mother Nature has gone from global warming to a hot flash
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…

unneeded rain.

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 hints

These clues to lunacy and

ignorant bliss…

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.

Where the Wind Blows

winds-2

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.