The Sapling and I (day 919)

Windy meadows that long ago
Were stripped of all their life:
Elegant firs, long needled pine
And birch that peels around.

They’ve all been reaped
Into a heap;
Grinding and turning
Paving and spreading
Strip malls and sidewalks.

All in the name of progress.
In belief of and for
Settlers heading west.

But where was I at these round tables
Where was my voice of reason?
Was I asked for my steady thoughts
To protect our mother’s children?

For now I am to blame.
Here to suffer
To pull at breath and
Leave my anguish at the door;
Kick off my factory shoes,
Step into my factory warmth,
And yawn my factory toil.

I am not anymore the savior sun;
A strong branch upon a tree
Deep within the forest.

But I am a sapling reaching up
Into the sky above.
A sign of life, natures life:
An orb of sweet Gaia

2013.05.09 - Prince George Spring (63 of 100)

New Positions in Old Lands (day 913)

Wilting tulips peeking out between
Tufts of Kentucky blue
Old fruits in decomposed remains
Soiling nurtures death

Sprawled timelessly, endlessly
Vacant amongst giants
Sit cozy cottages
Squished and disheartened

Grave-ly/like plowed
Widened and trimmed
Single track adventure path turned
Paved mountainous road

Rounded and tied
Bales of hay
Feeding quarter horses on
Four wheels with exhaust

Life stream in valleys floor
Where abundant game roam
Cement barricades trapping
Forever more… dam

Kootneys-201108-18-01 (450 of 480)

Frosty Morning Saunter (day 891)

A motionless saunter through the cold grass leaving footsteps every bloody place that I go and picking up my feet without tying up the laces because the gloves on my hands are too warm and the air is too cold but the path ahead is shaking and quivering in unrelenting uncontrolled mastery non-mastery in spite my insistence on leaving my hands out of their pockets to fight this urge to cower and shelter from the brutal elements hoping to bridge the gap between strength and toughness without too many frost bites but this is ok because I read about it in a book that told me I should and it told me it’s valiant and it told me I can walk on coals with bare feet too because the skin between my toes is too soft and could use a good toughen up but oh my look at that large dog walking down the now covered in leaves path about to jump up on me because I treat it like a human being and acknowledge it’s existence for who in their right mind wouldn’t want to jump up on me with such an acknowledgement but you know the dog is so friggen big it’s like a young man feeding must be expensive is all I can think as my steps trace up the frozen tarmac slipping on the thin layer of ice hardly visible and highly wavering but all is good because I’m about to peak this crest and stand for a moment on the highest point and survey my kingdom for it is my kingdom for it is my kingdom for it is my kingdom that I survey due to my commitment to walk the coldest slippery path in all the woods in the mornings before the dusk has settled in and after all of the leaves have come flying down to the maker of their fate named gravity and decay and decomposition and footsteps along the singletrack path between the naked branches of thinner than I thought birch trees awaiting the bounty of springs sunshine because I’m not ready to give up on the year yet I’ve got plans to formulate and materialize and time to waste and sleep to never catch up on and a nice warm cup of coffee around noon because I’ve begun to let down my guard for certain things as I raise my guard for garbage and consumption and waste and destruction of our land this land my land my kingdom I saunter through on this cold frosty morning good morning world good morning world good morning world get up and go now take it off.

There I Lie (day 889)

There I lie
Face turned towards the heavens imploring
Seeking questions
Yet written on my mind

Sun scattered eyes
Blurring crimson edges
Setting fire to
Out of focus pins and needles

Before deaths cry
Wind whispers shallow markings
On seasons frozen skin
Betraying movement

And forgotten
A heavy coat leaves
Memories
Without occupation

2013.10.23 - Prince George Trails

Strolling (day 886)

Day dream with me,
A stroll if you will,
Through weeping willows
Flirting the edges of a pond.
Home to Canadian geese
With park benches
Scattered about
In an loosely knit pattern;
Two left, four right.
And old lamp posts –
Think nineteen fifty New York
Al Capone and the Rat Pack,
Steeze so steep
It takes a cane to walk back up –
Strolling.
The only way to hold this dream
Is to head along,
Around and around
Strolling through the gay couples
Hand in hand in thought and plans,
Midday sun with passive flies,
Squirrels about gathering nuts
While little bits of escaping grass
Grow up between the cracks,
Making the scene one of delight
One of softness
Fit for a stroll

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

2013.10.09 - Prince George Forest (23 of 176)