Wandering
Busy
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Month: December 2015
Wreaths (day 1665)
I am a miracle
And I cannot step outside.
I’ve corrected the long lines
Falling over my wreaths,
Hallowed and routed
And cornered
And fed yule-tide with eggnog.
So there’s that.
I’ve forgotten about snow.
Forever Calling (day 1664)
You heard me calling out your name –
Upon my tongue it would forever last –
Though you took flight into the night,
At a half past forever gone.
I listened then into light wind
For the call I had learned as my own,
And here at last, my breaking point,
A white wolf on the run.
I dare not breathe for fear of alarm,
A fear my existence would cause caution,
Clear for me was how set free
Thy heart as latched bygone.
Your paws I tracked into deep forest,
My soft pads doubled your quick steps,
Leading me as if by force
Into your nature’s home.
It was here I finally sat atop
A rocky outcrop, a simple bluff,
Where every night I’d hear your call
Leaving me forever, never alone.
Our Humble Home (day 1663)
We whisked away the midnight danger
Upon a solemn sleigh,
A hoof and breath,
A peak and trough,
Heaving the way we went.
I cannot say how long we sat
Being our beasts poor burden,
But alas, upon the valley floor
Ahead of us lay,
Amid deep nights deeper darkness,
A silhouette I knew familiar,
What any visitor could barely distinguish as
Our humble home to which we owed
Warm nights, forevermore.
Trying to Pack Lightly (day 1662)
One backpack less
One safety net
Ukulele? Yes.
Ego to Gold (day 1661)
I crushed this wild ego
Standing there idle
Calling my weak spots
And shouting my way.
I listened for a moment,
That weakness ensued,
And here I grabbed hold
And crushed ego to gold.
Oddities of Foggy Evening Travels (day 1660)
Aghast! The land was ever black
Shifting around with all despair
Clouds rolling in Gaia’s hair
And I, loosing my way back.
Should think I would leave no slack
To bring my hems, save no fare,
Back to the toil I’d never dare
Leave alone, I had a knack!
Then all at once I felt a tap
That brought me back into my senses
Clinging tightly to the shore
I un-scrolled my handy map
Which led me betwixt two broken fences
And I, my heart, agape no more.
Landslide (day 1659)
As grateful as a rock could be
Would every pebble fail to see
The romantic air forcing thee
Into the earth, never to be free.
Perhaps it’s ignorance to not believe
Such life is misery,
Forever free, I am the bee
Landslide and I am set free.
Rowboat (day 1658)
A sadness which has my heart is the deepest joy I have ever known. A snaking coil in my veins that surges with pressure of an ancient gale, fierce in spirit, surfacing upon it’s vista. I have come to realize I am the coloration, the reminiscent artifact of ashes smearing an impossible black sand beach at the head of the trust waters. My song is what trees sway to, sitting about the shoreline untouched by humanity’s destructive progress and filled with such contrast, from lightness to a darkness deep within the bosom of her mossy embrace. My song reaches to the toenails while standing barefoot upon this cold black sand, embracing wind as it blows every last hair drawn fabric about thy heart. My heart is forever in liberty, just as these black pebbles cackle at retreating waves. My heart is a mariner with a squint of foggy shorelines, and my sadness is forever the rope mooring our rowboat beached upon this black sand beach.
Waning Crescent (day 1657)
Lain down
Despair
Wreathing mother,
I.
Phosphorescent
Finger tips
Dipped in pale
Candle wax.
Bright moon
Waning crescent
Gathering for
Omnipresent.
