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 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.

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.

Home Team Game (day 2249)

Memory brings me to a time I played
On ice so cold and flat
Laced my skates, taped my stick
Buttoned on my helmet tight
Jersey worn proud and clean
Stretched about my back
Number on a team so strong
Hear the Cougars roaring loud
From the home team bench we’d sit.
A puck would be the object of
Bodychecks and blocking shots
Goalies were last defense
Set back in their crease to save the rest
Pass, slapshot, he shoots, he scores!
That’s how we’d win our games,
Hat trick, assists, winning goals,
The whole rink was on our side.
Then, exhausted, we’d all shake hands
Open a door in the boards
And head off to the locker room
To debrief and tuck our gear
Into hockey bags we’d pack off
Out into night’s frosty air.

Pastoral Views (day 2241)

Take me for a ride across
Sloping countryside
A river bend, pastoral views
Anglican church cemeteries.
Imagine if we could have
A baker’s dozen head of sheep
A flock to tame and feed with our
Four acre rolling range.
Our horses would be roaming, too
With healthy pasture grass
A good life for the lucky few
We’d ride bareback in play!
On Sunday’s we’d clamber over
Through the forest trail to
An ocean beach a short walk away
To laze about in deep rich red sand
In search of sea life washed up
Amusement for our childish minds
Every day till never end.
Then, towards the eve
We’d find our way
To our favourite perch where to
A book of tales would remind ourselves
How rich a life we do lead.

Golden Sun (day 2234)

Here I am upon the sea
Where two giants sit and wait
Singing songs to each their wave
In a shimmer upon the breeze
For with each breath they take
Comes a march of many soldiers
Attempting to take away their pleasure
Their big golden orb, the sun
But with each exhale their breath
Sent the suitors off again
Scampering along in madness
To find their legs upon the ground
So the giants sit still pondering
Each cloud that comes along
Wondering if it shall be
Married to the golden sun.

Bouquet (day 2233)

As each toe touch shimmers gold and let’s horizon shine within
My breath becomes held so dear for I shan’t want to disturb
I see each leaflet of your hair lazing about so free
That my face can feel with each breeze the sensitivity of your back
And this my heart it lifts with ease as goosebumps do grow of
Upon just knowing how we share this stoop, and I privy to your thoughts
So deaf have I become of else walking upon our path
But in your hand you walk up from, a bouquet in your hand.

Ode to a Honey Bee (day 2221)

Your lazy way fills up my mind
With honey bags full and plump
So heavy that your wandering
Feels delightfully like a wobbly jaunt
Hand in hand again.
It reminds me of days spent
Lounging in floral gardens,
Where I, too, did float about
From yellow, pink, and purple too
Into deep recesses of sacred jewels.
You dance in front of my very eyes
Miraculasly grabbing hold of flowers
So delicate looking and forever blooming
Scarcely able to hold your weight,
Now stuffed so full with sweet gold
And off to home you go.