Two drops of sunlight
Touched my nose today
Remind me of each footstep
We took together
Across each softened craggy rock
To the ancient sea so cold
Low we crawled on all four limbs
To brave into the depth
A slimy plunge
Such great refresh!
And dried by two drops of sun
How do I succeed at following rhythms?
Time passing while my heart beats
With unspoken visitors enabling
Each pitter-patter footstep leading
Into a little hole I don’t know how to close any more.
I watch bluejays easily get mad at
Unflinching sun poking through spaces in a wild canopy
And woodpeckers at ease as I whistle a hello,
Vigorously and meticulously rummaging through
Every year of hard protection.
Will I find answers in these rhythms?
I dance in firelight imagining all of my ancestors
Which brings comfort to my solitary circle
But never ceases evoking deep pangs;
My wild soul, accompanied.
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.
I couldn’t take you with me
I held you in my hand
What pleasure it was to experience
Then I floated off.
You had me in an ecstasy
A madness I held lightly
Tip toes and a high hat
Then I floated off.
Candlelight twisted my visage
Wine leaned me in
Footsteps echoed through the night
Then I floated off.
As my footsteps changed slope from uphill to downhill
I crested into a new valley
It was a particularly notable valley cresting
For the view I was afforded stretched from tip to bow
At the far end I could see a tail of smoke rising steady
Hovering for some time at the cloud line
Making its ever looming presence felt
As I looked down and stepped between the pebbles
Dodging in and out of the single-path trail I had been following.
My memory floated back to a woman I once had known
A woman whose smile touched the very essence of a man
Changing him instantly to a friend, forever
I had last seen her walking out of the tack store
In preparation to depart with a fresh pack of jerky
And enough rice to keep me a while,
She had asked where I was off to
And I told her what had honestly come to mind
I shared with her my dream of this land
With leaves the size of a horses head
With trees that bled sugar and turned as red as wine
She looked at me and shaked her head
Scolding that all us men ever want is our devil juice
I explained to her it wasn’t so,
She smiled and knew she was scolding the wrong man
I asked her if she would like to join me
An honest man on an honest journey
To a land beyond, to the East
But she had only replied in jest
Saying: “Honey, I’ve got too many mouths to feed.”
I started at a cracking branch
To my left, not 7 meters away,
I looked and staring back at me
Was a moose, hovering way above my head
He was looking straight at me
Antlers standing so tall and proud
Chewing on a tuft of a shrub
That hung down from the left side of his mouth
He snorted softly as he stared at me
Demanding I respect his space
I nodded back, gave a grunt
And quickly scanned the nearby forest
For any signs of a calf around.
My footstep didn’t stop
Rather, they kept along the trail I went
My heart beating loudly in my cool breath
The words of many an elder echoed in my mind:
“Moose are more aggressive then bears.”
I instinctively touched the blade
That rested at my hip
Foolish to think that such a weapon
Could disengage such a large beast so strong
I couldn’t feel the beast charging
Though I looked to check just in case.
I didn’t relax until I was over the next bend
Which didn’t take long to get
The familiar sound of a creek returned to my ears
No longer wise words warning and uncontrolled heartbeat
Echoing through my every breath
I softly observed the old man’s beard
Growing thicker as I descended into the valley below
Moss crawling higher up trunks of the silent giants
Experienced woods folk always say
That the birds will all be silent when there’s a predator around
So the light whistling of the forest’s inhabitants
The unique call of a raven
Calmed my senses once again.
When I reached a small opening
I dipped my hands in and splashed the fresh creek’s water
To my face, to wash the cold sweat that had gathered
I recognized bear droppings
A short distance from where I sat to rest
Looking at least a week old now
No danger for me, at least for the present
But a sign that they are around
And perhaps some tasty berries, too.
As Autumn turns it’s leaves loose
Winds speak colder upon my brow,
Footsteps crackle amidst ripened grass
And needles lay their pointed lips
Upon a hungry slugs slime.
But look, just there!
A toadstool sticks its neck out
Searching the air for sticky sweet moisture
To sporulate, propagate.
How richness exudes from dampened bark!
How heavy air cools thy heavy breath.
And maple leaves, the biggest leaves,
Lay down, carpeting the meadow safe.