Country Affirmations

With moments such like a desolate snowflake, hanging from the sky.

I walk my daily assertions and provoke, why?

The cold and the lucidity encapulates me.

I cannot always get there from here.

Yet, I am still open wide and apathetically, naturally, translucent to what nature offers me.

Traveling left of false roads…lifting a heavy foot, I am not too old.

Too old to bear the fruit of red berry, solo on downtrodden branch.

Further, into unmarked mystery, for bleak seconds, I find my second chance.

Country affirmations leave a stone heart vivid with darkened greens and snow-blind white.

Country proclamations steal my sideways glance.

Not all that is meant to be…

Not all is within sight.

Laughing Pine

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.

70’s Santa

The turn off route 93 had been slight

This is what I remember of the night.

There had been no threadbare child’s strap to encase my dreams.

There had been no traveling movie…to allow normal to be sane.

I remember those star crusted memories as though, I could achieve, I could achieve, I could achieve.

After coming from nap time with Santa and no delivered good to be had.

Remember, remember, the polka dot, the low fashion, the plaid.

Adorable in strawberry blonde.

Cute with a nose like a knob.

These days I do not allow myself to be host.

Santa, with perception, can now be a ghost.

Dining in the Moment

I stood there over open water

It had been beautiful, all at once…then not at all

Freckles of milk weed rustle with my flannel

It had been beautiful, all at once…then not at all

I sat near a Shaker table waiting for New Hampshire autumn to wine and dine

It had been beautiful. all at once…then not at all

Deliver Unto the Forest

I do not know where to go to stay strong.

I understood where I always needed to believe.

To the ravished forest, brutal and gentle, dark and light.

Can I ever release this flight?

Quail twinkling upon slightly frozen blades of grass.

Milk weed disposing of fluff, hard and fast.

I do not know where to go to stay steady.

I understood, however, the dug earth, the rampant maple leaf, the need to see and see…

Would deliver me.