Flew (day 2635)

It is not mine to lead away
Paths which grow apart
For every night a gallery
Painted upon the sky
Sings the chorus
Of each our rambling song
Heavy on the bass
Lightly stepping, light dew
Light our hearts they flew
Light the paths
For each we choose
Like fireflies in delight
And keep our minds
Upon our goals
Lest misty morning’s news.

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.

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

A Different Song (day 1848)

In my time of need
When I was growing strong
How could you say I was all wrong?
As I walked up to you
To ask a favor from
How could you sing a different song?

Like a feather that lives so long
Along the beak of a strong song
You were wisdom that we all needed
This last song to gather seed.

As I whispered to my friends
That we had stumbled upon truth
How could you yell upon your lungs
What we had already sent away
And claim it for your very own
Brought home as our one deluded messiah

Like a feather that lives so long
Along the beak of a strong song
You were wisdom that we all needed
This last song to gather seed.

I had two ounces in my pocket
You had traded me for my soul
Which I now carried forever more
Saying I was free in every deed
And on my lasting journey home,
So locked in your greedy empire I,
It was all unfaithful truth and a silenced song.

Like a feather that lives so long
Along the beak of a strong song
You were wisdom that we all needed
This last song to gather seed.

A Different Song by Ned Tobin

Ode to the Big Cedar (day 1759)

I looked up to wonder
How many years has your bark
Entangled your sinuous heart,
The very fibers of your girth
And timber, thick.
How long have you towered
Above the rest of your
Brothers and sisters
Reminding them through a good example
Of how big and strong they can yet grow?
And my mind runs along your vertical stripes
To follow the years of your growth
I count the markings
The lateral indicators
Of a healthy year or a false start.
And if I listen carefully as I stroll on by
I can hear you whispering my name
Reminding me of why I came,
And to whom I owe this poem.

big cedar tree in the west coast of Canada

To Be Ready in thy Soul (day 1725)

I wish I could reach out to you
Hold out my warmth in arms
I’d be your blanket wrapped around
To keep thy soul in tight

I wish I had the strength to grow
As the tree grows up and down
I’d have protection under me
To shade thee from heaven’s rain

I wish I was wind beneath
Your sail so taught and ready
My breeze would cool on warmer days
And speed thee through thy storm

I wish I had a bent back
Worn from thy service to thee
I’d be rags to keep thy feet
From ever touching hard ground

Siren Song (day 1700)

My Siren’s song was loud and clear,
Rung straight into my heart so dear.
A melody of which I knew
I had no choice as matters grew.

Little by little I worked into
My heart the song I’d sing till blue,
The golden Lady of the land
A Siren and I, hand in hand.

But as my Siren grew in me,
I lost all duty to thyself.
My eyes were slowly closed,
Hands soon swoll, toiled and blue.

She knew I had so much to give
Until at last this heart would burst
Upon the seams she so wove with
Melody so long, her Siren song.

She, however, would not let go –
Clutching, bloody, my heart would grow.
Until, at last, all writhing stilled,
My heart: milled, song: chilled.

model | Melody Mangler
model | Melody Mangler

Weeping Willow (day 1676)

It is with this intention
That I grow into unique
But not a unique so unique
It looses it’s physique
For lost and alone
Was never a soul
To be borne or simply left
Just lost in the lagoon
Trampling skunk cabbage
And swinging aimlessly
About low hanging branches
Of a bountiful weeping willow
To find the end to gather up
A handful of bull-rushes
That I so delicately paste
Upon the small of my back
To become my wings as I carry on
Forward and truth,
Happy New Year to all
The game is upon us now.