Tag Archives: Grass

Ode To Dried Flowers (day 2139)

When skies blow clouds
So lazily
And grass sways side to side
I feel your heart pull
About a time that’s past
I remember, I do!
I watched you lift your brows
To the sky each morning dew
And sunsets captured a feeling
Of what it was to be you
And now we carry on
Taken, but not forgot.

Jon-Jon Wood Oak (day 2085)

These days are long, my son
The grass hardly grows
And we must be keen and aware
To find what has been left
From the summer’s growing
See these cat tails?
They will do you very good
But the birch, poplar, and willow
Those will do.
For we are not the only ones
Looking for sustenance
In these cold, blizzardy days
No, let this be a reminder
That when the food is plenty
In the warm summer days of green
To eat and eat and eat some more,
For winter’s sure to come again
And we survive, oh, we do survive
We are survivors on what has been stored
During the summer days of green.

Moose watercolour painting by Ned Tobin

Mary Lazaretta Pilonne (day 2084)

You see here now don’t chya know
I was, and were, to be sure
A little tied and tried
But test it was and test me not
I set the plot and tricky thin
My sneaky ways and shifty grin
Wore me like a blade of grass
And there I was on tippy-hooves
Scamper proof and lightly tapping
Dark as night, thin as life
Working in and working out
A two by two by four my plot
Let it be known and let me not
Show the grief I never treed
For in the end I never moved
So here I am stuck in my groove.

Moon at Midnight – Part V (day 1979)

(part IV)

The waning gibbous that night
Had nothing impeding it’s projection
Into the palm of my hands
I sat for a long time watching
It’s shadows across the meadow
I recognized how colours, now dull
Made for an entirely different landscape
I understood new energies
That floated about in midnight glow.

I feared reaching out, touching tufts of grass
That set aside momentary worries
I feared moving should it startle
What slumbered in the vicinity
I feared making a sound
For it should surely echo for ages
Like smoke signals at daybreak
I feared breathing to vigorously
Should my heartbeat change the hour
To a warmer beat.

I sat cross-legged
With my blanket closely wrapped around me
Slowly hunching over into my sleepy legs
That wanted to sit aright, erect
But my slowing thoughts calmed by thy moon
Let me feel comfort in falling backwards
Into the fur covered ground mat
That awaited my simple slumber
Assurance guided me there
When I reached for my nearby pack
An unreasonable yet simple reassurance.

I awoke with the same comfort I had fallen asleep with
Yet yearned for more time with that powerful moon
Watching the fire curl around its victim
Provided some of this amazement
And as life slowly flooded back into my body
I accepted the passing evening’s mystery
With an abundance of life all around me
Eager for my wandering pathway
To lightly pass through, eager eye open to all
Eager heart open to adventure
The journey was in every moment,
Not to be held for singular moments.

With the familiar motion
I swung my pack comfortably upon my back
With momentary shifting
Aimed to soothe each grumbling bump
Night’s slumber had produced
That, once assembled,
Found me beyond
What I had previously called my home,
Once again upon this road
Through magnificent giants,
Expansive ferns, soft mosses,
Sprouting mushrooms, drooping lichen,
And countless birds singing me hither.

part VI

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Autumn’s Wick (day 1937)

As Autumn’s candle blows clouds away
Sharpness enters into this day
At the cost of blue one cannot say
The geese should fly today.
But as Hermes doth say,
“Winter, come our way,”
So must we abide by nature’s law.
And here we are amidst the fray
Swirling leaves on an Autumn day,
And frost spreading it’s silver lining
Along the open grass
With little paw prints
Bustling here and there,
To prepare for Winter’s deep lair,
Shelter and warmth bites the air
Though Autumn’s wick doth get shorter.

Autumn's Wick by Ned Tobin

Ode to Autumn (day 1931)

When I was a little lad
I can remember quite vividly
How I’d run around in wool:
Jackets, mittens, and a toque.
Rosy cheeks would rush between
Piles of raked leaves
Exploding as a shaggy dog may
Tongue half way to the ground.
I remember putting my nose
Pressed right to the ground,
Smelling dirt and grass
And observing in minute detail
Leaves turning from green to brown
Crackle them along veins
Once so vibrant, so alive, fresh
Now so similar to the dirt
Squished between my fingers.
Bugs, beetles..
Busy in the dizzying mirth
Of all such decay.
Here, I would stay,
Madly fascinated with stacked flower pots
Textures of clay now everywhere!
From where did they come?
Every Autumn was fun,
Preparation everywhere,
Chopped logs and canning jars,
Hockey sticks and Halloween,
Snow banks and toboggan pulls.
I can remember the dying sun.

Forever Sweet (day 1864)

If only tulips sang to me
As I was falling asleep
Like every single sparkling star
Sitting up so high.
If only rainbows
Were every thought I’d have
My mind would be forever sweet
And every hour would be afresh
From every morning shower.
If every rabbit that nibbled grass
Was my closest friend around
What conversations we’d both have
As we hobbled along our path.
If every river swept my troubles
Far away to sea
I’d be a sailor high up my mast
What liberty a man can be
Climbing up to thee.

Ode to a Small Rabbit (day 1842)

You there, bouncing everywhere,
What alerts you, I’m sorry I’ve scared.
Bounce away, hop along
I am not here to cause you wrong
I am just a passing stranger
Who lives across the way.
These are the plants that I have sown
This is the grass that tickles my toes
And now, see here, we both can share
Bounding here and there and everywhere.

Fingertips (day 1777)

When did my hands start to look so old?
I hope one day I will return
And it will wash away
And I will be let out to run
In the sweet grass that stains
My fingertips

Fingertips by Ned Tobin

To My Moon (day 1749)

Where did all of the wild horses go?
When we walked through the tall greenscape grass
Was it wind blow my mind
Straight to your sweet design?
Sun in my eyes was just my good disguise.
Won’t you come see me tonight, sweet mystery?
Don’t leave me here with sun gone out now,
Keeps a crawling around just so.
I’ll be mighty hands on the run.
I’ll be summer’s midnight stars up so high,
Crickets crackling in our eyes.
Roll up our sleeves to a mid-summer’s breeze,
And let Cassanova be my midnight name;
When I’m left alone as the Phantom goes
And your heart is wrapped all up in thought.
So when midnight strikes me tattooed, too
I will roll up my unused bribes for another bride
Like a straightened arrow, to my moon I will go.

To My Moon by Ned Tobin

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