Riverbed (day 2229)

My heartbeat thunders through riverbed rocks
Smoothly echoing off canyon walls
Sounds of power, strength,
And my hand-to-chest roars
With each moment, each thought, each translucent vision
That scrolls out before me
Just as ancient oaks and black spruce and a needle strewn path
Leads me into an unending future
I sit gazing as fog enters
As the torrential river carries my thoughts
And a loon calls to me from the distance.

Treasure Chest (day 2131)

Rambling when I remembered to stop
A limb broken and I heard it drop
Methodically stripping naked
A consciously wrapped envelope
Placed at the trunk of a mighty old oak
Who waved back and forth
Silly gamblers marching about
To the tune of engines
Sputtering confusion
And lay raindrops upon folded corners
Which shall leak kava upon this ancient floor
Upon which I rest upon
To humbly assess the treasure chest.

Initials (day 1753)

Your heart laid there
Wrapped securely to an old oak tree
That had two initials carved deep.
Your heart was calm,
Reminding me of silent moments
I’d hold my breath for
Watching a little robin
Bounce about the clearing
In search of daily food.
And the midday sunlight
That lofted my thoughts
Towards an overused chair
And a cold beer to ease the pain
Of those two initials intent.

Day Catcher (day 1122)

My water buffalo languishes,
He stumbles and wears lollipops
In his big ears.
Like fountains and mountains
And entropy in the wind,
Like envelopes and cantaloupes
On my mothers antique oak.
I droop with my succulent.
I hang out to dry
On an island in the sun
With passing blossoms
Scalloped to catch rain.

Figurative Hand Memories (day 1061)

So the moon blinked and I saw what I had been waiting to see.
Like sweet flowers and long grass setting in the warm summer’s afternoon sun;
I saw that windows were figurative,
That Angels were literal,
That icons were forgotten memorizations,
And that caveats were the peaks and troughs of her supple skin
My hands caressed so.
My hands caressed so.
My hands caressed like wild winds flirting giant oaks
Drawing shadows as elixir cursed through my thoughts.
Here it danced amongst and on.
Where I thought I had begun, and knew I had rolled back to.
So I swam – figuratively – and saw what I had been waiting to see.

Deep Crimson Baskets (day 658)

Shallow pools of unspoilt water
Sit below a Betty Crocker window
With hanging deep crimson baskets
That fill the air
With freshly baked flowered Mondays
Spreading out is the pony picket fence
That shines White House Tuesday
Separating the gumshoe green grass
From the oilskin decay
Of the Red Riding Hood forest
Sporting Wednesday’s haircut
Half-way there
Here’s where the country house patio
Holds the dad’s weekend project picnic table
Thursday’s moldy sandwiches
Crawls into cracks upon the Indian paintbrush deck
Where Friday morning dew drops
Freshens up the green spots
Under the Saturday afternoon oak
That tickle the fresh from shower toes
Wiggling for joy amongst the John Deer grass
Where taste tests start
Out of the Sunday brunch basket
Two drive-in lovers packed
For their dollar store romance
Fresh in from the Marilyn Monroe raindrops
Settling the shallow pools of water waiting
Under the Betty Crocker window