Red Racer (day 2300)

I have lost my edges in a red racer
I leaned out too far
Forgot a weekend of fun
Down a long dirt road
I didn’t think had much luck.
This is turning into a solo trick
Dancing with midnight
Of an half empty glass
Melting in the tune of E flat.
But wind blows through trees here,
Heavens sing here,
And visions keep reminding me
I’m not a poor man anymore
I’ve left my home and I’m moving on
Down another dusty road home.

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.

Silhouetted Cacti (day 2172)

I will be the sun dripping
Down legs of golden heroes

I will be the crumbling dirt
Amidst each footstep, counted

I will be the wings soaring
To each ebb and matching flow

I will be the wandering nomad
Caught in effortless migration

I will be the passion building
Spring cannot be stopped

I will be the hours breathing
While a hand rests, exhausted

I will be the knot tied
Alert silhouetted cacti

I will be the red ball
Dipped into old red wine

I will be the front porch song
For each moment you are my anchor.

Window Drops (day 2171)

Along the ways of window drops
A bird flew out the nest
Cloud came to my very door
And my hair lay flattened down.
Yet every signal
East be at it’s back
Signaled me to rise above
What midnight I had not looked back.
Nor did my animosity
Rumble to a stop
A grinding halting dusty jalopy
My chariot of grim time.
True, each dirt splash lay bare
The deeper grit of sand
Which held my flower to my nose
Thus, bow down low I dearly bade.

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.

Heart & Soul (day 1779)

When I crawled to the edge of a forever span
I got so close to a miracle
I laid my nose right down to the stone
And breathed in the dirt that was my heart and soul

When I reached so high from the up most top
My mind was scorching in an unbent sky
With rainbows and eagles far below
I was a full thought in a twinkling eye

When I caused each leaf to rock and sway
From an ebb and flow in my very glow
I sent my prana to behold the world
To return double-fold, with such secrets that’d never been told.

Golden trees along the PNW coastline of Vancouver Island, Canada

Ode to the Soil (day 1755)

Sweet dirt, my soil;
Great bounty of life.
Breathing and heaving and turning delight.
You break down my blossoms
And decompose your own waste
To help nurture all life
Balanced, and full of bugs and worms.
Your kindness is forgiving,
Your consistency is staggering,
Your patience is humbling,
Your vitality encouraging.
Even your air is enlivening –
Quite literally in fact.
And if until forever I had
Betwixt my fingernails and toes
Your rich presence to look at
Your heart in my hand,
I’d forever be full
Of everything I’d ever need
Until the day at last did come
For me to join thee, forever free.

image of dirt, grass, a section of spine bone, and dandilion

Memory (day 1596)

Your heart rings on the bars of my faint memory
Tingling windows that never seem to open right
While lights flicker from unknown sources
As if silent messengers in night’s sky.

I touch my lips and think about a sensation
Once so familiar to my heart that it left an ocre mark
And scalded the new moon twice since
Leaving rays of blood light shifting my reminiscence.

I cannot wait here long, for leaves follow my mind
Upon a downward spiral to freshly rooted dirt
Awaiting new seeds of our ancient memory
And lifting lines that varicose their way back to my heart.

Memory by Ned Tobin