Moon at Midnight – Part IX (day 1983)

(part VIII)

That first night Amy put an extra serving
Of stew on for me
With the most delicious dumplings I’ve had
This side of the Mississippi
And a most rare treat of cookies
I couldn’t say no to
As we ate, Clarinet’s big eyes
Kept finding me and we’d laugh and giggle
For I wasn’t used to strangers, either!

I did not have any of Frank’s ferments
That he had made himself
And was quite proud of
I had sworn off any alcohol
Since the devil had taken Emma, my sister,
Off with her and a shotgun
But this I didn’t tell ol Frank
Too kind of a man he was.

As dawn broke, I was already awake
I had elected to sleep outside
Beside their fire pit
Keeping a low fire going for most of the night
That affording me some enjoyable heat
And kept the dogs close
I was eager to see more of their spread
Which I think Frank picked up on,
Showed me his garden,
They had two sheep and one goat
The goat they said was a wedding present
From Amy’s parents
And two good looking quarter horses
He was very proud of.

We decided that the best thing I could help them with
Was to help fall two cedars
And buck and chop for the oncoming winter
They were already quite prepared
But I could see that Frank was a smart man
And knew what needed to be done
When somebody was asking what could be done.

At first we used his two-man saw
That must have been two meters long
To cut down the carefully selected trees
You don’t really know the sound of a falling tree
Until you’ve stood on the ground that shakes
When one of those silent giants falls
The two that we picked were about
Sixty cm in diameter
And with Frank’s well kept saws
We had the both of them on their sides
Within half an hour
For the rest of the first two days we made our way
Up and down the trees
First cutting off all the branches
Then bucking everything into
Thirty cm rounds
It took the better part of the next three days
To chop the rounds into
What could then be used in Amy’s warm oven.

part X

Ode to the Big Cedar (day 1759)

I looked up to wonder
How many years has your bark
Entangled your sinuous heart,
The very fibers of your girth
And timber, thick.
How long have you towered
Above the rest of your
Brothers and sisters
Reminding them through a good example
Of how big and strong they can yet grow?
And my mind runs along your vertical stripes
To follow the years of your growth
I count the markings
The lateral indicators
Of a healthy year or a false start.
And if I listen carefully as I stroll on by
I can hear you whispering my name
Reminding me of why I came,
And to whom I owe this poem.

big cedar tree in the west coast of Canada

Eight Legged Creatures (day 1442)

I cannot shake cobwebs of memories woven
Like the nest of an eight legged creature
Singing along to its tiny violin.
For whether I am last or first becomes
A brown bottle of almost never cared,
Sitting lifelessly on a stained cedar windowsill
Collecting dust and losing its eyes to tears,
Losing its words to years.

Somehow daughters never returned,
Sisters forgot the street number
Even though the sign sat twisted like a unicorn
Whose mane flowed so thickly in powerful gusts of wind
A rooster turned right around watching.

One cobweb strand reminds me of twin fawns
Who would wander by searching for blackberries,
Rich and prime and staining my fingers
Like thick lines trailing after a slug
Crossing a cement pathway.

I’ve grown used to the cobwebs,
Adjusted to being wrapped so delicately
Subtle changes in atmosphere
Cause reverberating sensations to flicker around
Along a one way street on the holy train.
It’s reached a point where I no longer feel
The sweet perspiration of an ice cold Coke bottle;
Instead, the roar of a monotonous dial-tone
Eager to tell me it’s all right,
And I’ve been here before.

A Calmer Pursuit (day 1189)

My rusticated bones have a hard time returning to
Honking cars and attitude
And hipsters looking the other way.
I’m not used to it and I don’t like it.
I want needles of every kind of bough
Littering my path ahead of me
While squirrels and chipmunks and
Birds sing at me with unending stories.
I want spider webs tricking me
Into little games of cat and mouse
While Helios slowly arches
Along the edges of my mind
Preparing for Selene’s calm pursuit
Around and around again.
I want fallen giant cedars to block my path
And to offer a brief respite
With ferns so tender my mind shall wander
To the clear lake I’m heading to.

Prose or Drawing (day 41)

As the clouds roll grayly over the tips of the trees
A flower sprouts out, distorting my gaze
Lime green shoot with delicate leaves off
Yellow petals catching little rays of sunshine
In spite the meandering clouds

And a bird, sweep and sway as it goes
Following a path neither you nor I see
The lazy sound of rolling tires
Pressing heavily along the solid cement
Easily making out the cars that hit that evil pothole

But the cedar hedges all look sharp
Neatly cut last night with a dull pair of snippers
I know because I heard it happen
They cried the whole night too
Now, they look pretty and blue

Upon closer inspection of the ground I lay
A beetle crawls away, weaving a slow path
Destined for a head on collision with
That squirmy ant I see over there
Maybe they’ll become friends with one another

In all the sights I hear on my perch
All the animals I know do roam
I feel of them all luckiest to be
The one with the freedom
The voice to be me