She lay next to him
Like summer grass in the pasture.
Each scent
Of sweet honey flowers
Filled his senses
With lust
Only a lover could do.
And there was no time
Finding its way
Into their hearts
In urgency,
Just a bee
Distracted and drunk.
Tag: pasture
Dreamer (day 3064)
I am a late night dreamer.
I walk the streets
With parallel universes
On repeat amidst my thoughts,
So that each turn I make
Runs parallel to my intentions
On a highway of bright lights
Though sun has long been down.
Yet I roam here
With eyes baked in sugar
That envision it all,
Right down to the first footsteps
That I know very well
Will wake me up tomorrow.
I roam here so that I can awake
With a mind full of race horses
Excited in a freshly opened pasture
Of my tomorrow which I am now
In tonight as a late night dreamer.
Symmetrical Truth (day 2915)
Questions become:
What about truth?
Along with an acre of pasture
There are moments of rain
That twist down the spine
Of Kentucky Bluegrass.
Deserted and alone
The ghosts run sordidly
Through shadows that come at dusk.
Follow the windrows
Carry each bundle lightly
With an eye for each special
Symmetrical glimpse.
Comfort In Your Eyes (day 2767)
There are diamonds
That glow amber
And your eyes
That shine brighter
Each star
Burning up
In the night sky
I’m looking at.
Big old pine trees
That tell of ancient
Mariners searching
For a lost fish
Out at sea
Every wave
Shakes each stone
By my feet.
Do you remember
How far the sun goes
Before it falls behind
That yonder hill
Take me over
To the pasture
I know no other
Calling home.
Wildflowers (day 2614)
I broke into a heart today
That screamed a coyote song
An echo to my own demand
A lonesome trail seemed forever run
There was no point I could reach out
For inside this cavernous land
Ten thousand Oak stood tall and proud
Which no touch could penetrate
But she, alone, took me at last
Like wind takes up a sail
Spring at last in to this land
Where wild flowers planted in pasture.
Open Ended Questions (day 2593)
These days I find myself revolving around an open ended question.
I dont find myself worried or left on a cliffhanger,
No, these notes dont sound good on the breath of discovery,
My walnuts are chesnut brown
And my drawers are filling up with notes
That have inches and arrows scribbled
Upon their worn and wearing shoulders.
You see, the game is but a dice I’ve been carving.
No choice wrong just doing and not doing.
A collaboration of antivibration
Has taken its seat next to the campfire I sit at nightly,
With a small dosage of 5% ABV
But the streetlight illuminates my path home
Though I walk through dirt and pastures
To find my bedroll and cedar.
So I ask the questions that need no solving
But need collaborating,
I ask the answers I know,
But believe the cosmos knows too
For in believing in that orbit
I have put faith in my family,
And my family has led me right into discovery
With an open ended question
Resting on the lips of eager grasshoppers.
Edge of Me (day 2253)
It drops the edge out of me
Silence and methods and
Misunderstanding
I don’t know the cost
But I know the me
The truth in me
And it comes out in droves
That burst upon parkades
And spills into pastures
To edges of your existence
To be forgotten
Muted
Stumbled upon and missed
And closed.
A box being closed
Yet so delicately wrapped
And ornately carved
It is almost fit
It should rest closed
Yet each edge
Reminds me I’m still here
Resembling
A fifty year old maple
With buttons on my shoes.
Pastoral Views (day 2241)
Take me for a ride across
Sloping countryside
A river bend, pastoral views
Anglican church cemeteries.
Imagine if we could have
A baker’s dozen head of sheep
A flock to tame and feed with our
Four acre rolling range.
Our horses would be roaming, too
With healthy pasture grass
A good life for the lucky few
We’d ride bareback in play!
On Sunday’s we’d clamber over
Through the forest trail to
An ocean beach a short walk away
To laze about in deep rich red sand
In search of sea life washed up
Amusement for our childish minds
Every day till never end.
Then, towards the eve
We’d find our way
To our favourite perch where to
A book of tales would remind ourselves
How rich a life we do lead.
Dusk (day 2158)
This is the spark that sets seed
A jubilant setting free
A sunset beyond every sea
With a new day the grain that grows.
And if each sign these clouds do point
Expose a pasture fit for rose
Should a foot that heals the earth
Lay thin dust that bitter burns?
Nay, each dusk a seat be found
To hold each glass, a little worn
A ritual many should be warmed
At last, sweet moon, a gray cocoon.
Pastures (day 1928)
Pastures played at my little dream
Set aside too many plans
And I’m calling home today
For it’s harvest season
Pickers needed at the farm
Pulling legumes and blossoms from
Rows and corners of every acre
Wild and planned, Bounty’s real.
So the pasture’s calling my name.