River Bed Flow (day 2414)

Let the river bed flow
I want the world to know
You can hear ol’Gray Bird
Doesn’t matter what season
Doesn’t matter what time
I want the world to know
Shouting out loud
In a forest around here
Alive with rounding music
Hardly lonesome while dreaming
By the river bed swimming
I want the world to know
Carry me on, carry me home

Mae Rim Thailand

Your Histories (day 2286)

I can only hold my breath
As waves of anxiety pass through me
Butterflies emanate so powerfully
From my being
Sunshine becomes hard to see
I cannot count to ten or listen
I cannot comprehend noises
Conversation becomes lost
In an inaudible sea of thought
That has found me here
Floating around your island
Out beyond the breakers in the sea;
A picture on the wall
That leaves me awe-struck
Star struck, but not star-struck,
Star struck that makes me remember
Your kindness that laughed at me
Your eyes that watched with me
Your silence that became excited with me
And your being that is
A remarkable being
A being that should rest upon silk robes
Effortlessly moving through a sea of pillows
That supports your every wish
With decadence and consideration
And space that gives you time
To remember the histories
That you have always been,
And love that has never been forgotten
In a book written long ago
Bound with two ribbons:
One of forest green,
The other of gray.

Ode to a Pine (day 2281)

Needles so long and fragrant that
You set into my dreams
And close around my open spaces
With essence of the forest.
I notice that your feet are so
Sandy, enjoying the soil
I’d like to join you, kick back, relax
Grow so strong and freely here.
I shan’t be quick to cut you down
I shall resist unto the end
So that your life outlives my own
Respecting one another’s deep wisdom.

Sunset Field (day 2238)

There’s something here
Deep beneath heavy cigar smoke
And calming chatter of birds
Scattered amidst surrounding forest,
Fields ahead.
A woodpecker finds a hidden beetle
And mosquitoes my soft spots
Along this horizon vista
Of melding clouds
Half lift sunset brown
Leaning on golden white,
Half darkening blue
Of midsummer showers
Layered above the strait.
Couples lazily walk soft beach sands
Hand in hand
Creating memories I still have
That I douse in smoke,
Picnic benches of an earlier gaiety
Sit empty like grazing sheep
Full from a full productive day.
Elm trees, tall and proud
Find last bits of gold
Sun, cooling, has to share.
My lungs find air of a new found density
Promising foliage a cool drink
Bringing an air of calm
Beckoning me: surrender
Depth of heavy breath
As I rock my comfort back and forth
To a tune I’ve not yet written
In cigar dust of sunset field.

Ancient Forest, Ranger (day 2142)

Walking through the ancient forest
I pick up broken sticks
I pick up what has left the home
To wander alone, to wander, Ranger.

Many times I’ve shared my thoughts
With wholesome handsome faces,
In a trunk of ancient bark
I sing songs of fallen trees
That show me signs of what has begun
In silver rays of spying lightness
And broken sticks below my foot
Though an ancient forest I remain.

Twisting Trail (day 2127)

Papa could’ve been another type of man
Like a raindrop could be caught in a hand
Let another letter slip through the mail
Gone again gone again as heat prevails.

“A little gone,” says the better man
Couldn’t you have just set it right: a plan
I said goodbye into a dusty pan
Held it close as I looked inside.

When the needles dropped upon the forest floor
Little birds gathered all around
Snowdrops sprouted into the sky
And the trail twisted on.

A Little Mouse (day 2117)

As if in the ransack of time a little mouse could foresee such a circumstance, little unbeknownst to him and his furry paws scuttling to and fro about the forest floor – roots for here and roots for there, but left in a random mess that danced like bliss – as the owl hooted loud the shakey graves below the folly could tell ten thousand stories of arching madness and screaming terror; look out look out look out my friend, I have not come to be thy penance, no, I am here to hold thy candle brighter, to make thy night much less weirder, to the side of willow river and make a dart into thy deepened hole of safety and say to thy family you love them better and listen to your little mice that complain of washing and complain of chores but lead your life as you best can for times will come and leave you better beside the river and your cavern and your pretty mice wife, hither.

Calling (day 2096)

This is my calling
Run through the forest
Trails along the way
Lead me home, sometimes.

Forage some berries
Discover a toadstool
Help a little frog
Along its merry way.

Some paths grow narrow
Hardly able to walk
A step on a branch
Scares the whole flock.

And then open up
To a wide open meadow
Dig up some roots
Soil to my soul.

This is my calling
Deep winter bark
Roots on my threshold
Home in the end.