Moon’s Song (day 2557)

When I flew upon these wings
I spoke to you in thunder
Carried on up through my eyes
Left me ever wilder.

Clouds became my lily pads
Dancing I shook the ground
And when I played the Moon a song
Sweet Sun came around.

Braced I landed on both my feet
Flexing as I prepared
Passion ready, nostrils flared
Stretched every sinue clear.

There I lay neigh blinking
Wide open you stared at me
We lasted here not long enough
Patience of routine’s design.

Life of a Leaf (day 2408)

I’ve grown accustomed to leaves turning my memories from fresh to curled, a well understood paradox that changes the tide so romantically it hurts like the small spots beside the bulging veins growing inside.

My smile has grown lines, my heart has extended its beats, my hearing has begun to dance with angels upon the dead leaves blowing along the roughly trampled ground – are these our memories we have yet to experience, or have they been forgotten and left to dissolve into earth?

So I crouch down low and embrace the softly blowing wind that helps me to see my passing time I used to think I loved, I used to want to love, so here I’m hurting from spatial infrequencies that cup my involuntary spasms from underneath the table and remind me to forget to itch the pain.

Does this leaf know it crumbles within my palm so slowly softly? Did it reach for me in a pure moment of thought, expecting my return upon amber wings of a sun soaked day like an emotional Prometheus on a personal mission.

Then, like the ashes of memories crumbling in scaled hands of our Phoenix, so too shall sun rise again over the horizon of a small family farm to bring with it a wet spring full of insight and gratitude that runs the width and depth of a heart shaped leaf settling softly upon a well worn path of insight.

Ode to a Beetle (day 2278)

About the log you make your way
From hither unto tither
Zigzagging in ecstasy
Searching endlessly for something more
I see your contemplation gather
Like watching a lover at her joy
I see your fixed determination
Bringing each and every day
Like new sunrise
Like spring in floral
Your motion is forever calming
And as transfixed I remain so
Watching you to and fro
I watch you spread your wings
To find another patch to play.

Silhouetted Cacti (day 2172)

I will be the sun dripping
Down legs of golden heroes

I will be the crumbling dirt
Amidst each footstep, counted

I will be the wings soaring
To each ebb and matching flow

I will be the wandering nomad
Caught in effortless migration

I will be the passion building
Spring cannot be stopped

I will be the hours breathing
While a hand rests, exhausted

I will be the knot tied
Alert silhouetted cacti

I will be the red ball
Dipped into old red wine

I will be the front porch song
For each moment you are my anchor.

I Really Want To (day 2155)

I really want to
I really feel like finding the motivation inside,
To reach out and scream,
To run until my lungs are burning
And life’s pain ceases to hinder me.
I want to jump and swing
And yell like a charging elephant
With my eyes glaring down
Doers of injustice.
I want to slam my fists in to walls
And flip over tables that seem impossibly immobile
Tearing down pictures
Smashing plates and pottery.

I really feel like seeing red,
But then I remember how delicately precious
Life’s wings are
As I watch a bird fly by,
As I catch the sun setting
Leaving behind a gentle golden gradient
Filling my eyes and heart
Until my inhale matches my exhale
And my toes tingle happily at peace.

Thoughts for a Girl in High Country (day 1717)

If a robin came and sang to me
For you I’d wish my ears to be
Lifting lightly with a thousand sprouts
The reddest ribbons of my soul.

If a sparrow circled above my gaze
For you I’d wish it’s wings to be
Spring is here as I’d look out
Along the valley, home at last.

If a bluejay held it’s head up high
About the post up in the sky
For you I’d wish a seat beside
Ever last, a Queen, my pride.

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.