Survivor (day 2289)

Take my survivor and hold it to the moon
Red in my hands and seeing double again
Mary and her shepherd man
Holding hands on the shore’s soft edge
The Chancellor and his Frankiphone
Perfect for you to see reflections again
Lost in to depths of softness
Splashing in moonlight
And my hands keep turning red
As I pull you into the moon
All I ever have and all I ever need
And this is everything I can give
Smoke veins to clear my edge
So will you follow me as my survivor
Though paths the moon discovers?

On the Run (day 2282)

My hair is getting longer than
I care to let it get
But my teeth get brushed
And I shower in a tap
Near by every morning.
I haven’t seen a razor
Since I’ve left my sheeted bed
But I know life’s just right
The way I ride
An iron horse
Through the day’s open sky.
I’m on the run for bits of fun
And lots of seriousness
To find my own
In a land far off
Where I’ll know no one again.
I eat my meals by picnic bench
And chop my food with a pocket knife
And fall to sleep nearly every night
As the sky says it’s goodnight.

Ode to a Pine (day 2281)

Needles so long and fragrant that
You set into my dreams
And close around my open spaces
With essence of the forest.
I notice that your feet are so
Sandy, enjoying the soil
I’d like to join you, kick back, relax
Grow so strong and freely here.
I shan’t be quick to cut you down
I shall resist unto the end
So that your life outlives my own
Respecting one another’s deep wisdom.

Ode to a Beetle (day 2278)

About the log you make your way
From hither unto tither
Zigzagging in ecstasy
Searching endlessly for something more
I see your contemplation gather
Like watching a lover at her joy
I see your fixed determination
Bringing each and every day
Like new sunrise
Like spring in floral
Your motion is forever calming
And as transfixed I remain so
Watching you to and fro
I watch you spread your wings
To find another patch to play.

Lifeless (day 2274)

If I could write my passion down
On memory two by two squared four
I’d be alive just like the sky
Floating high above for me
I’d sing of open fields to cross
Of bird’s flight so free
Of whales who’d dive far into see
A game amidst unknown
I’d climb each tree
And shoot each arrow
A target I’d always know
I’d have at least
Ten thousand tomorrows
To let loose into the air
As if they were a sign of my
Devilish nature afloat
Like a growing fire
Amidst embers so hot
One by one’s begun.

Thus Wed (day 2273)

It is no longer passion
That inflames my thoughts
Your effervescence always near
Though they linger while
I take my breath
Of morning air so clear.
What’s left is what makes
Sun so hot
Tracing edges of earth’s day
A silent smile budding
Like a fruiting tree
A sun soaked sigh so gay.
Time floats by in reverie
Visions clearly refined for me
Even ravens as they fly overhead
Hold messages of thee
And so shall be my memory
All thoughts shall rest thus wed.

Fire Making (day 2251)

There’s nothing quite like starting a fire
From the very kindling you’ve gathered
Shaved flakes of fresh wood
Because woodsmen don’t use paper
To start their fires.
Each piece of wood weighed and measured
To match each flames intensity
For in its time that fire shall get
A new piece as its fuel.
Handling an axe isn’t a light days work
It’s sharp, and heavy,
And you’ve really got to swing it hard
I you want any work done at all,
For your fire to get nice and tall.
Then as night sets in, darkness itself,
Warmth from your toil and support
Comes bellowing out
In calculated intensity
From within the fire you’ve set
And worked as a good night beacon.

Ode To Birds Singing At Night (day 2250)

When I bed my wary down
An anticipated rest at night
Whilst stars still not yet hung
A song plays in a key so high
So high I must quieten to enjoy
First the symphony comes
From the right of me
A solo of hesitation
Then echoing the chorus rings in:
“All of life, all of life, all of life!”
Off into the distant copse
A clear and bright bird stands up tall,
Two so close
One behind
Now chattering from all around!
Carrying me off on a journey
Into a night so deep
To surely dream
Of more sweetly
Singing birds.

Spruce Story (day 2247)

The old spruce and I sat silently
We shared secrets unspoken
We shared ground softly packed
I looked up and counted to one hundred
Each branch I gave a name
Each name remembered its origin
In the world of seven valleys
I heard ravens nesting
Squirrels chasing
And I felt each limb slowly shake
Watching each needle slowly fall
Tumbling to the palm of my hand
Which rebirthed my blessings
In each moment of doubt
Until I stood where the spruce had stood
And I inhaled deeply as the spruce had inhaled
And I listened as the spruce had listened
And I swayed as the spruce had swayed
Until the seven valleys became my valleys
And my story remained so.

Worn Sun (day 2246)

I watched the sun set today
My worn legs took me to the edge of the world
Where I ran my finger over horizon lines
That achingly waltzed a deep pink hue of gold.
The last drops of sunlight are transfixing
They speak of ancient willows blowing in the wind,
Of ancestors who worked fields with their hands,
Of patio chairs rocking back and forth
Transfixed by the first sips of a perspiring cider.
Then, darkness calls;
Outstretched hands tracing my jawline
Caressing my sore back with nimble fingers
Jarring my consciousness with fading memories
Like static visions lifting stars into place
And a wind dying down for rest.