The old spruce and I sat silently
We shared secrets unspoken
We shared ground softly packed
I looked up and counted to one hundred
Each branch I gave a name
Each name remembered its origin
In the world of seven valleys
I heard ravens nesting
Squirrels chasing
And I felt each limb slowly shake
Watching each needle slowly fall
Tumbling to the palm of my hand
Which rebirthed my blessings
In each moment of doubt
Until I stood where the spruce had stood
And I inhaled deeply as the spruce had inhaled
And I listened as the spruce had listened
And I swayed as the spruce had swayed
Until the seven valleys became my valleys
And my story remained so.
Tag: squirrel
Island Dribble (day 1962)
My island leaks
It dribbles uncontrollably
On passing dolphins
And soaks mosses
That covers hardwood
And little squirrels
That come hither
Jump and play
In each their puddle
Falling calmly
Upon dark rocks
That take away
My islands dribble
Morning in the Forest (day 1879)
As morning shakes its view to sight
A squirrel says hello
And repeatedly I hear a coo
Coming from a morning dove
Seeing sweet sun at last.
Chirps and burps make their way
About the valley floor
For everywhere, in deforested alcoves
Are packed as many can fit
In summer campers
In expensive tents
And some even in hammocks to swing!
And I begin what’s friendly to me
A routine I’ve come to enjoy
First I feed, then I sip
Upon the best things I can fix.
Forest Trail (day 1870)
Did you ever wander lonely
At a path about the forest
Where squirrels chirp
And fly’s buzz
About and around your presence?
For in the path,
And on the trail
There is silence before you come
A silence that lasts like inhaled breath
And breaks soon enough again.
And on this path where needles fall
Flora grows as wild as wild can be
Blossoms at different times
Spring out to say hello.
Now, if your lucky as a rabbit can be
Some fauna will browse your way
About its trail,
Upon its way
From whence I’ll never know
And likely never see,
In spite exploring
In spite discovering
In spite the many paths one takes
There’s always another
Always a corner
Left for another day.
Squirrels (day 1512)
I am awakened by the sound of trees
Clacking with other trees
Amidst a soft morning breeze
That has calmly taken to remind me
Of balance that life exists in
Where moss grows
And ferns sprout
And squirrels chirp away
At their busy business.
A Calmer Pursuit (day 1189)
My rusticated bones have a hard time returning to
Honking cars and attitude
And hipsters looking the other way.
I’m not used to it and I don’t like it.
I want needles of every kind of bough
Littering my path ahead of me
While squirrels and chipmunks and
Birds sing at me with unending stories.
I want spider webs tricking me
Into little games of cat and mouse
While Helios slowly arches
Along the edges of my mind
Preparing for Selene’s calm pursuit
Around and around again.
I want fallen giant cedars to block my path
And to offer a brief respite
With ferns so tender my mind shall wander
To the clear lake I’m heading to.
Love Steps (day 1029)
What does it take to love you?
What does it mean to hold your heart?
Like a delicate silk perfectly folded
Into five evenly spaced sides
Without creases.
What kind of fingers dance, prance
About sticky honey-buckles?
Long strands of hair into the deepness of my soul.
For forever was a long drive
Straight West into sunset’s romantic heart.
What kind of foot pierces clear waters of a hidden brook?
What does the water taste like
After it drips off your tentative toes
Recoiling into giggles, riddling squirrels
Into silence.
Fly Southward (day 878)
Audible melodies yell out to me
From browns and yellows and oranges
And decay coiling around the forest floor
Waltzing in a downward spiral
Escaping grasping tops of trees
Shedding for coming seasons
And Orchard grass spreading seedlings
About the popular field surrounding
Swept about by gusting winds
Tickling the noses of passing strangers
While squirrels burrow deeper
Birds fly southward
And sun sets earlier
Poem For a Great Dog (day 780)
I had a dog – a great dog to do him right
A dog so valiant he was my brother
A dog so honorable he made me proud
His sticks were always the biggest sticks
That the forest could offer up
Two lengths wide; head held so high
That was the kind of dog my dog was
And when you threw that stick for him
There wasn’t another care in the world
Bounding over logs and through tall grass
Around small trees and through thick brush
I would let him come upstairs
Sit by my feet as I worked away mine toils
Especially with loud thunder
Shaking yonder hills
I can still clearly remember when,
As a young pup, I tried to acclimatize
The tiny dog to a perch on my bed
He grew so fast and at first chance
He jumped from those heights to
More stable grounds below
He made friends with all the other dogs
He was loved by all those who knew him
His heart beat so true none could deny
His kind, gentle demeanor as he prodded on
Hardly a pup could try his strong patience
But let’s not be fooled that when needed
He wouldn’t take much testing
From neighborhood mutts
It is uncountable the amount of times
He would scare away a bear, herd away a moose
Scamper after a fleeting deer through long grass
Or jump at the sound of the resident squirrel
Sending him high in branches of his tree
He would lose himself in the forest tracking a scent
Only to reappear down the trail looking for me
He had his friends that roamed the trail behind the house
The young girl down the road and her witty sled dog
The Germans and their duck dog, oh what a pair those two made!
One that couldn’t stand a loud sound
The other that lived for the sound of a shot!
Or the wolf hound three doors down
And the proud girl with her border collie around the bend
He was a great dog, the dog that I had
When I returned home, his tail would knock
Over anything near, excited yelps uncontrollable
He would always put his nose between your legs
Slowly walking through as you scratched him down
When you got to his tail, his legs would go weak
For it was there that gave him infinite pleasure
I will miss the dog that I once had
A great dog, a brother of mine till the end
I will miss him more than the trails we used to walk
Or the seasons we’d always play
Röbert Mönchkin (day 778)
It isn’t that the seasons take away my pleasures I bask in in the summer; running carelessly about the fences and jumping from branch to branch. No.
It isn’t the shade from the sun, nor the darkest of clouds that hover over horizons I see from the top of these branches in this place I call home. No.
It isn’t the infestation of caterpillars that slither their way into every single crevice I’ve ever held dear to me and my family, eating away the lush green leaves that paint the exterior of my home. No.
It isn’t the bears the rummage in my little piles of stores I’ve secured away for winter lengths, nor the beavers that take my home for theirs. No.
It’s that blasted dog that jumps every single time he sees me, barreling away at the highest speeds to bark me all the way up the tree.
But, I suppose that I do provoke him with my constant chattering and taunting…
Röbert can be purchased here.