Sunset Field (day 2238)

There’s something here
Deep beneath heavy cigar smoke
And calming chatter of birds
Scattered amidst surrounding forest,
Fields ahead.
A woodpecker finds a hidden beetle
And mosquitoes my soft spots
Along this horizon vista
Of melding clouds
Half lift sunset brown
Leaning on golden white,
Half darkening blue
Of midsummer showers
Layered above the strait.
Couples lazily walk soft beach sands
Hand in hand
Creating memories I still have
That I douse in smoke,
Picnic benches of an earlier gaiety
Sit empty like grazing sheep
Full from a full productive day.
Elm trees, tall and proud
Find last bits of gold
Sun, cooling, has to share.
My lungs find air of a new found density
Promising foliage a cool drink
Bringing an air of calm
Beckoning me: surrender
Depth of heavy breath
As I rock my comfort back and forth
To a tune I’ve not yet written
In cigar dust of sunset field.

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.

Four Winds (day 2230)

I want to be your cannon ball
Your matchstick in the night
I want to shown you everything
Is made just as it should.

For when wind blows to cool you down
A blessing from the North
And when our morning sun does rise
A blessing from the East.

When a tear falls from your eye
To rest upon your lip
A signal to me, your shining star
To be at your evermore.

Like dew drops on a morning leaf
Your heaving breast shall show
Your heart so strong and beating free
Is still about your soul.

When a bird calls to you upon its way
A blessing from the South
Your eyes, I watch, closing to this day
A blessing from the West.

So if your fright shall hold you back
Into my arms you’ll fall
To be at last, as I’ll guard you,
The guardian of my soul.

Four Winds by Ned Tobin

Broken Path (day 2224)

When out walking amidst trees today
I found a broken path
That led me around a big ol’ fir
Three houndred years or more
I scrambled over wild roses
And a patch of red clover
To find myself face to face
With bark of an ancient race
Here I stood wondering about
All the years that have gone past
What have I touched
What have I called
Who have I known before
To which I instantly knew more
That deep inside my soul
The answer lay awaiting me
For not was I of anything
Held back was I to guilt
But for a speed at which I flew
That kept my needles dry
So each and every day I knew
I’d be challenged by the race
And my greatest test
Of each my time
Lay finding just one slow breath.

Ponds Edge (day 2219)

Awoke into a morning haze
As clear as light blue skies
Dew has slowly seeped in to
Kentucky Bluegrass all around.

And from my perch I see the lake
All covered in lillies and pollen,
Which thrills each bird that floats about
In search of her next sup.

Sweeping poplars flank my perch
Letting in little drops of sun
To feast my eyes in ever changing
Greens and greens and greens and yellows.

Swallows circle speedily
In than out of sight
Surely having such luck finding
Mosquitos awake so early.

Chick-a-dees here sing to all
Their lovely songs in cheerful reminder
Punctuated by a friendly woodpecker
Who reminds me of my duties calling
A-rack-rack-racking on his chosen tree.

Solitary Circle (day 2198)

How do I succeed at following rhythms?
Time passing while my heart beats
With unspoken visitors enabling
Each pitter-patter footstep leading
Into a little hole I don’t know how to close any more.

I watch bluejays easily get mad at
Unflinching sun poking through spaces in a wild canopy
And woodpeckers at ease as I whistle a hello,
Vigorously and meticulously rummaging through
Every year of hard protection.

Will I find answers in these rhythms?
I dance in firelight imagining all of my ancestors
Which brings comfort to my solitary circle
But never ceases evoking deep pangs;
My wild soul, accompanied.

Shawnigan Lake - Ned Tobin

Softly Cried the Orchid (day 2189)

My shallow scoop has left graceful dents
Upon the eves of my tomorrow;
Pondering a moment here leaves me
Wishing I hadn’t left my tear
So delicately upon your shoulder.

I grew an orchid that cried so softly
When the rhythm of the moon filled
Each crystal chalice with translucent waves
Softly swirling in my hand
Wishing I wasn’t so damn ready.

And as I watched the sun gallop
Over the Eastern horizon from my chair,
I hummed a tune in my favorite key of D
So low it had rumblings of a tumbling dream
Which pressed me between cold sheets for another day to begin.

Waking Moments (day 2187)

Solid air
Colliding with my waking moments
Fleeting and palpable
And shifting listlessly through
Mountain streams and alpine trees
And rocky breezes and sunlit dreams.
My held breath seems to remember
What was once an immensity,
So unfathomable to each peculiar life form
– Gliding restlessly upon the surface of dreamscaped imagination –
Yet so identifiably palpable
With my very eyes closed
Facing towards the source of my waking moments
To believe in a word left unspoken.