Misty Boughs (day 2258)

You, a burning flame did grow
Dancing with the morning fog
Shake the dew that left birds in
A maze of ribbons and boughs.
A colour ran straight down from
Each gap of the misty morn
Tingled each dancing toe
O’er the wild grassy knoll.
Whence the house came peeking through
Ominous black set back in fog
Home at last to elm pews
Shaggy black goat on the road.

Campfire (day 2257)

Campfire is my tool tonight
Warmth from evenings bite
Fuel for cooking suppers worth
And entertainment to watch
Flames licking exposed wood
Yet untouched by char
Coals shifting, popping
Gathering underneath
The hottest part,
Eager to grow ever closer
To other matching embers
And edging me evermore
To fuel my campfire tonight.

Fire Making (day 2251)

There’s nothing quite like starting a fire
From the very kindling you’ve gathered
Shaved flakes of fresh wood
Because woodsmen don’t use paper
To start their fires.
Each piece of wood weighed and measured
To match each flames intensity
For in its time that fire shall get
A new piece as its fuel.
Handling an axe isn’t a light days work
It’s sharp, and heavy,
And you’ve really got to swing it hard
I you want any work done at all,
For your fire to get nice and tall.
Then as night sets in, darkness itself,
Warmth from your toil and support
Comes bellowing out
In calculated intensity
From within the fire you’ve set
And worked as a good night beacon.

My Tomorrow (day 2227)

Till you dance upon firelight
Of our burning fire so bright
I will sing my longing song
By dancing flames I watch all night.

Till you walk through the meadow
Of our waving grass so shallow
I will hold my breath for birds
Singing songs of my tomorrow.

Till you hold on to the memory
Of our days we’ve watched the sea
I will comfort in the setting sun
Knowing tomorrow is another story.

Heart Run (day 1550)

A breath in to future,
Save one forty nine unto end.
Lay my dance at your hand
Hay ahh – hay ahh – hay ahh – oh.

Break me aside
Heart run like tide
Where’s flame in the night
Hay ahh – hay ahh – hay ahh – oh.

Liminality
Great warriors dance
Forth we shall go
Hay ahh – hay ahh – hay ahh – oh.

Freedom is light
Deep spread strong root
Settling in
Hay ahh – hay ahh – hay ahh – oh.
Hay ahh – hay ahh – hay ahh – oh.

Heart Run by Ned Tobin

A Weary Traveler (day 209)

A weary traveler
Asleep on the bench
Tells stories not in his breath
But in his hunching
Like the slow arc
Laid about by the dropping sun
The rhythmic tide
Thrusting is weight
In an effortless fashion

A weary traveler
Tells more stories of destinations
Relates roads walked
And styles of architecture used
Within his own steady eyes
Like the flame that sits: ignite
A weary traveler
Knows in all due time
The stories worth telling
Do tell themselves out