Apples (day 2543)

I dream of an apple that comes in many varieties
One so diverse it can only be spoken in gutteral movements
So loud it can hardly be swallowed
And so vivacious that even the clowns turn their heads and stare
And when this apple has come to life
A bounty shall follow freely
Where all that’s needed will carry forth
Fruitful seed in spring rains cracking
Momentum in earth so rich;
Deep into heart of gold forever fills the pallette
Like a warm cider by the fire
And my season of the sun well spent.

Ten Thousand (day 2448)

Born ten thousand years ago
Learned to see the moon
Carry a fire inside my soul
Lord, I’m coming home

Sitting alone in wild unknown
Breath of ten thousand breaths
Watched a leaf fall to earth
Felt it land so soft

Walked the path till I saw all clear
Deep in a medley hole
Called moon my mother’s name
Lord, I’m coming home

Life of a Leaf (day 2408)

I’ve grown accustomed to leaves turning my memories from fresh to curled, a well understood paradox that changes the tide so romantically it hurts like the small spots beside the bulging veins growing inside.

My smile has grown lines, my heart has extended its beats, my hearing has begun to dance with angels upon the dead leaves blowing along the roughly trampled ground – are these our memories we have yet to experience, or have they been forgotten and left to dissolve into earth?

So I crouch down low and embrace the softly blowing wind that helps me to see my passing time I used to think I loved, I used to want to love, so here I’m hurting from spatial infrequencies that cup my involuntary spasms from underneath the table and remind me to forget to itch the pain.

Does this leaf know it crumbles within my palm so slowly softly? Did it reach for me in a pure moment of thought, expecting my return upon amber wings of a sun soaked day like an emotional Prometheus on a personal mission.

Then, like the ashes of memories crumbling in scaled hands of our Phoenix, so too shall sun rise again over the horizon of a small family farm to bring with it a wet spring full of insight and gratitude that runs the width and depth of a heart shaped leaf settling softly upon a well worn path of insight.

Thus Wed (day 2273)

It is no longer passion
That inflames my thoughts
Your effervescence always near
Though they linger while
I take my breath
Of morning air so clear.
What’s left is what makes
Sun so hot
Tracing edges of earth’s day
A silent smile budding
Like a fruiting tree
A sun soaked sigh so gay.
Time floats by in reverie
Visions clearly refined for me
Even ravens as they fly overhead
Hold messages of thee
And so shall be my memory
All thoughts shall rest thus wed.

Weathered (day 2209)

Wished I was a saint
Took my cane with me to work
Held on to a weathered hand
Was caught out in the rain

Left a symbol in the earth
Growth that clouded all designs
Held on to a weathered hand
Ate my heart out in the sun

Giving to little was my lonely grave
Lest beggars break in to settle my nerves
Held on to a weathered hand
There I lay saddened by time

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.

Patterns (day 2161)

When every part of patient patterns
Seem to fit inside the other
A symbiotic matrimony, of sorts,
Fills us up each day
Like sun that orbits around and around
And the moon, just biding its time
Mycelia strings together the dots
Connecting you to me
And sun to earth and rain to mud
And seed to harvest it too!
So down we go, deep inside
To sprout one million times amore.

Dusk (day 2158)

This is the spark that sets seed
A jubilant setting free
A sunset beyond every sea
With a new day the grain that grows.

And if each sign these clouds do point
Expose a pasture fit for rose
Should a foot that heals the earth
Lay thin dust that bitter burns?

Nay, each dusk a seat be found
To hold each glass, a little worn
A ritual many should be warmed
At last, sweet moon, a gray cocoon.