There were no more ways for the buffalo to roam
Fences stopped their grazing and wild land migration
Farmers began to cultivate their food with chemicals
And soon they became desired by man for their very skin
That kept them warm through the winter
Leaving the only thing they couldn’t be robbed of
Their soul, their wild and herd driven soul
Alone, rotting on the fields forever.
Tag: fence
Fences (day 3124)
It would have made more sense
Had the locks been undone
But the height of the fence
Resisted the direction begun.
So the height was evaluated
Prospects were gathered
Witnesses were brought in
And a document was then signed.
Reduced then to tears
The paper found it’s owner
Lost in a myriad of fears
And a tall, tall fence to get over.
Ode to Coming Spring (day 2759)
Oh deepest temptation
How you flirt with my soil
A thought of thaw, a hint of melt,
A sense of return to summers belt
But then a day so far away
Seems the Spring that once did hint
Now a freeze, frosty fence
Covering the land, so white.
Yet in my eager gait
I sense all soon to blossom
And maybe, too, I spy
A bird been gone a while.
Warrior and Prince (day 2687)
You were a warrior
I, a mere Prince
Wandering this land
We met by pure chance
You with a gun
I with my lance
Warm by the fire
I had set by a fence
You told me of buffalo
I spoke of dance
Midnight approached
Magical moment
Our horses awaited
Saddles and trails
Fresh mornings
And sunlight.
Line (day 2623)
There’s no line to draw,
Fence to climb,
Curtain to open,
Or purchase to make.
There’s only truth.
There’s what makes truth.
There’s living truth,
Speaking truth,
Believing truth,
And being truth.
There’s you,
And you’re truth.
Should you choose it
You can become it
Since there is no seperation
From one truth to another
Just truth
From you to me.
And that matters.
Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXXV (day 2029)
Two weeks after Willow had been run
She was feeling good enough
To go back out and try the passage again
So, we packed up
And headed out in the same direction
This time we passed over the woodland
And made it to Amy & Frank’s
Within four days of riding
Very slowly
For it was still a little bit tender
For Willow to ride for too long at one time.
Amy, Frank and Clarinet were ecstatic to see us
They had a new baby boy named Jack
Who Lily of course fell in love with right away
So Lily and Clarinet played house
With the three of them
Taking extra special tender care
Of the little baby Jack.
Willow and I enjoyed the baby too
And I could see that she was thinking about
Having our own little Jack
But we didn’t talk about it
We were too distracted with conversation
Willow and Amy got along really good
I was happy to see that,
And Moon Cow, Frank and I
Mostly worked in his garden and shop
Helping him with some of his projects
We made poles and fixed some fences
Milked his goats and churned the butter
Fed the chickens and chopped some wood
Sharpened some axes and shooed his horses.
Every night we felt like a family
All sitting around anywhere we could
Eating what Amy and Willow had made
They were both interested in exchanging recipes
From each other’s minds
Willow always had so much to share with Amy
About herbs foraged from the forest
Willow learned so much from Amy
About things like flour and pastries
I could see her eyes expand
Watching some of the techniques
Amy did with her oven.
Oddities of Foggy Evening Travels (day 1660)
Aghast! The land was ever black
Shifting around with all despair
Clouds rolling in Gaia’s hair
And I, loosing my way back.
Should think I would leave no slack
To bring my hems, save no fare,
Back to the toil I’d never dare
Leave alone, I had a knack!
Then all at once I felt a tap
That brought me back into my senses
Clinging tightly to the shore
I un-scrolled my handy map
Which led me betwixt two broken fences
And I, my heart, agape no more.
Where the Wild Buttercups Grow (day 723)
Have you ever been where the wild buttercup grows?
Up past the fence where the cattle don’t go
There’s an oak tree there sheltering a patch
Of clovers so thick, of ground so cool
I don’t go back there often since I’ve moved away
The house has changed now, green house is blue
But when I do go up to where the buttercups grow
An overgrown path where the big old oak stays
I remember in ’24 Mary-Lou and I walked
Up to the meadow where the buttercups grow
We sat on the sunny side of the old oak tree
Upon the checkered blanket we brought with the wine
But lovers they come and some of them go
And the buttercups always continue to grow
Up in the meadow where the wild oak grows
Past the old fence where the cows don’t go
Farmer’s Fields (day 369)
At first their is a little track
At which I rush along
Then comes some wild, untamed grass
To far from the farmers arm
Then comes a fence
Barbed with a deadly glare
The field, freshly plowed
Does sit upon the fences other wing
It’s here we find
The rows of dirt
Nearly as straight as I can draw
With seeds, no doubt
For the season of growth
For the farmer to reap and sow
It’s square to him
But diagonal to me
I see it at these speeds
And after that
What ends the flat
A sprout of lovely hedges
From here we see
The story continues
In likewise fashion and theme
Into the distance
Where the eye can see
To the end and then beyond
But wait! What’s that
When I stretch my eyes
I find there in the distance
A village, of sorts
A few houses at best
But they mark the farmers existence
Perhaps it’s there
That more playful life
Also does exist