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.

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.

Ode to Morning Birds (day 2182)

Sitting here with inward thoughts
I’m drawn into a jungle
Roaring all around I hear
So many songs of earth
I hear birds calling each other
From North, South, and the West
I hear distant ducks searching in earnest
And chickens sorting out their rows
I see the poplars shaking morning breeze
And imagine how they’re filled
With little birds so cheerful
Each one calls at intervals
That synchronizes my heart
And fills my morning ritual
With a symphony of song
That asks of me so little in return
And I float away in dream.

Ode to Frogs in the Night (day 2149)

As silence closes it’s doors
And symphony erupts in scores
I listen attentive to
Catch each source, each hymn
Like dominoes it begins
First here, a call
Then there, and there, and there
Into what feels like
The whole lake’s edge alive
Conductor’s up, stage is set
Violins have all been tuned
To which my eyes then slowly find
Moonlight, and silence again.

Ode to Stinging Nettle (day 2145)

I walk each trail in early spring
(My eyes forever searching)
For what I know to recognize,
Last years treasure still so clear –
Purple shoots so proud and strong.
And when I happen upon a stand
My heart smiles, my joy is found
Tis seasons first bounty
Abundant and wild
Sprung to sting my hands!
Every leaf so delicately cherished
That joins the wicker basket
(I, so thankful and forever glad)
Will nourish my vitals
So vibrant and healthy
Upon a trail for another year.

Ode to a Forest Tree (day 2115)

Every step you carry with me
A fragrance wafting so free
Your spine tingles the very clouds
Surrounding me, which I see
Which I love and become one
Of every day a deep inhale
That reminds me of pure ecstasy
A true embrace
A truth I remember and carry home
To set my mind upon the ledge
Of your clear visage.

Cottonwood tree - Ned Tobin

Ode to Autumn (day 1931)

When I was a little lad
I can remember quite vividly
How I’d run around in wool:
Jackets, mittens, and a toque.
Rosy cheeks would rush between
Piles of raked leaves
Exploding as a shaggy dog may
Tongue half way to the ground.
I remember putting my nose
Pressed right to the ground,
Smelling dirt and grass
And observing in minute detail
Leaves turning from green to brown
Crackle them along veins
Once so vibrant, so alive, fresh
Now so similar to the dirt
Squished between my fingers.
Bugs, beetles..
Busy in the dizzying mirth
Of all such decay.
Here, I would stay,
Madly fascinated with stacked flower pots
Textures of clay now everywhere!
From where did they come?
Every Autumn was fun,
Preparation everywhere,
Chopped logs and canning jars,
Hockey sticks and Halloween,
Snow banks and toboggan pulls.
I can remember the dying sun.

Ode to the Apple (day 1914)

I walk the orchard with eyes so wild
Heart so strong and free
I look towards where you fall from
Then bob back to where you’re from.

A-joy I see as each new leaf
Spreads out with all it’s cheer
And my heart leaps at every blossom
An orb of what’s setting free.

Into my hand I hold on to thee
Like miracle of child birth
Soon to be returned to earth
My footsteps weave through the orchard.

Ode to the Apple by Ned Tobin