Harvest (day 2607)

There’s a warm wind blowin’ ’round here
Sky’s been turning red
Dog keeps pawing at me
Leaves’ve started fallin’ down
I’ve got one too many fancies
Rollin’ on down the road
Keeps my mind a wondering
Even as I lay in bed
Had to work hard for it
Found it in a single apple
That I caught just before it
Found its way to the ground
So I’ll keep watching
For you at the harvest

Surrender (day 2526)

How did I make it through childhood
Run the gauntlet and pass inspection
I rode bikes down bad trails
Faught kids in the schoolyard
I played with axes
And climbed woodpiles
And chased after chickens
That had no obedience
I don’t know where I went right
But I stole kisses
And drank wine
And swam in holes
I wasn’t supposed to swim in
And slept in beds
I only half knew who owned
Yet here I am
Two past an age limit
And still stealing time
To take another ride
Down A sweet street
Called surrender.

Twisted Arm Blues (day 2479)

You didn’t have to lie to me
Just stopped saying you loved me
And I never knew so much goodbyes
Could mean all the things they seem to be
I didn’t miss a beat with you
Called me on the telephone
With some nasty things to say
I didn’t know truth anymore
Holding vivid remembering
Just a lonesome memory.
Oh, you didn’t have to lie to me
Stopped saying the things you used to do
It should have never been
Will you ever shut this out?
It’s not a lie to me anymore
Looked me in the eyes?
It’s not a lie to me anymore
When I see the sky turning red
And hens calling out loud
It ain’t you beside my bed
And when I said I’m not a married man
I wasn’t lying there with you
I’m not lying to you anymore.

Resting Spot Tonight (day 2319)

I am not to be taken down
Little lonesome memory
Falling everywhere in here
Take a figure dressed in black
My resting spot tonight.
Undulating aftershocks
My corpse a dangerous tune
Play me just such lovely song
With broken strings again
Take me to my hallow cave
My resting spot tonight.
Weathervane spinning restlessly
Copper at the top
Holy ghosts and untrapped souls
Ten spoons for a bed
Take my cover into eve’
My resting spot tonight.

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.

Coyote Song (day 2242)

Like a warrior’s window
I have taken my bold chance
Sent my spear forward, spinning
To make my impression
In your days ahead,
Gypsy on a river boat.

Set idle by your fire
In an old wooden rocking chair
Watching tomorrow set away,
My spear slows down to rest;
River dances away.

In earnest I ask
Which old coyote song
Begets a lone call from you tonight?
For fear makes me
A sentimental man
As lines running through
An old hickory handled spear,
Rocks in a river bed.

Each Torrent (day 2177)

Wisdom calls in the elements
And smiles to each torrent and fury
Wisdom tramples upon no minion
Takes no weakened arrow
And pulls no tender feather
Wisdom spews no fallacy
Nor isolates convenient truths
Wisdom sweeps no dirt
Under our very own beds
Wisdom holds space
For every voice to share
And walks hand in hand
To the center of the square
A march of justice
With a silent peace flag
Wisdom charges the air
With truth and an open heart.

One Long Om (day 2175)

A never ending line of whispers
Spoke to me last night
Took my innocent eyes
Shaded them with tricks unmissed
I walked along a grassy slope
With wind circling around my eyes
And with two short breaths
And one long OM
I sank into the ground
Here I found the largest system
I’d ever seen before
I made acquaintances with
Two oddly shaped rocks
And the loam between their mounds
Where slowly came
A wiggly earth worm
Who circled me twice before
It called my name
In whispers twice
And there I was in bed.

Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXXVI (day 2030)

(part XXXXXV)

We stayed for five days
With Amy, Frank and Clarinet
As expected, it was really quite enjoyable
There wasn’t enough room inside their cabin
So we set up in Frank’s barn
With some fresh hay we had helped reap –
Clarinet and Lily shared a bed inside,
I was happy to see them getting along so good
In spite their obvious cultural differences
And, truthfully, hardly able to speak to each other.

We were all thankful to have the horses
For the ride home
Amy forced us to take some of her jerky again
And stuffed our bags full of baked buns
Fresh from her oven
But, it was nice to sleep
Under the stars again
Around a campfire
The night was warm and clear
And we all felt happy,
Warmed by the socializing…
By the friendliness Amy and Frank
Always made sure to shower us with
They were really becoming quite good friends
To think, only three short years ago
I had first walked up to their front porch.

The next day we were up early again
And before we had ridden too far
Moon Cow saw a deer and had an arrow through it’s neck
We camped close by, at a creek
And spent the rest of the day dressing it
To prepare it for the remainder of the ride
It was nice to eat the fresh meat that night
But it surely wasn’t as good as
What Amy had packed us, smoked.

The rest of the trip home went
Without much to excitement
I was happy to see how well Willow was doing
On account of her broken ribs
It still hurt her to do long days on the horse
But she was so skilled on the horse
That she was able to avoid much pain
Still, we kept the next two days of riding
Slow and steady, without pushing too much
And enjoying the wildnerness we explored
Lily, of course, was all eyes everywhere
So excited to be on a journey
But a little melancholic about
Having to return to our village
After become so familiar, spoiled I guess I could say
With Amy and Clarinet’s hospitality.

part XXXXXVII

Moon at Midnight – Part IV (day 1978)

(part III)

As I sat crosslegged in the little clearing
Hidden as I was, deep within the forest
Heading East to the land of the Old People
I wondered about the faces I might see,
Faces of the men and women who would greet me,
Faces of the children playing in fields
And fields growing with the vigor
Only well cared for fields of tender hands can grow
I knew I would find
In the land of the Old People.

Beside me was a little patch of buttercups
That skirted the edge of deeper forest
Fallen logs and fir needles of this land
I could still hear the brook I had crossed
Calmly gurgling in the distance
My canteen still cold from its fill
My belly still churning from its fill
My fingers still wet and a cold
Only fresh mountain water can give,
A cleaning happily taken
Where I had let my bare feet soak gently a while.

My eyes scanned into the forest
Of an age I guessed ageless
Not a stump to be seen
Finding geometry in naturally fallen trees
Trees standing so tall my guess couldn’t reach
Moss covering so gently
I envisioned the industry nestled
Deep within the safety net of moss
That lay about thickly covered forest floor
Fungus’ mycelia layer hidden well
In healthy circles around the Ancient Giants
Old Man’s Beard hanging low
And spider webs zig-zagging
With its delicate fibers of care.

My pouch was always on me
No matter how far from camp I wandered
So as I moved away from my opening
I felt instinctively for my tools
Stepping over former soldiers
Rotting as life continued its circle
Through the efforts of decay
My soft crunch avoided the mounds
Finding edible mushrooms was easy
This early season of harvest
Upon edges of clearings I’d find strawberries
And blueberries and salmonberry brambles
So thick I’d get high
Feeding so heartily on such sugar
I knew it wouldn’t stay forever.

Fire starting was an economy no man could do without
No sane man that is,
For plenty of nights I’d been cold
In pure darkness of deep night,
But this night I had supple moss
And accessible wood dry enough to start
A warming dance in my blood
Soon the coals were hotter then the wood
That burned inside their whispers

My bed was simply a roll
The hard ground was something I was used to
I carried soft fur of a bear
On the top of my bag
Which I’d lay under my roll
To soften each night’s cold
My dream of a sheepskin
I had read about in books
Of old foreign herdsmen roaming
Highlands of Scotland
But I with my simple roll
Laid out on the ground.

part V

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