Fighting For A Softer Edge

If you give me a softer edge
I will believe in your touch
For in the grasp
Of a summer day
I remember all these dreams
And I can hear the buzz
Of the honey bee
Singing in my ear.

But if the edge continues to hone
I’ll find my sharpness cutting knots
Deep within my root stricken back
Holding me to gnarly strength.

I am the fire
Should I be struck
For I awake within my heart,

I am the dirt
That crumbles with
A slipping fist no longer clenched
No longer fighting back.

Tune of Love (day 3165)

I wanna make love to you.
Not the love that races to the end
But the love that fills the sky
At dusk,
Or that dwells deep within the hearts
Of Canadian geese in flight.
I want to make love to you
Like the lazy sunshine
That kisses with closed eyes
In the middle of a green grass field
With bees drunkily stumbling by
On sweet mother Gaia’s nectar.
I want to make love to you
So that you feel the ocean rise
And swell
And lightly float around
From pink-red starfish tides
And the slow rush
Of retreating and surfaced seaweed
That entangles your every sense
As you submit to its enveloping wetness.
I want to make love to you there
Where sheets become props
And danger lurks within our eyes
Like phantoms who’ve been hiding
For generations.
I want to be there with you
For when you play lightly the strings
Of your most sensitive song
I shall be listening
So intent on your tune.

Once Seed (day 2771)

Rage at the antics talking heads play
Forced to surrender, no other way
Lost is ancient, history’s gone
For a game of dollars, enemy’s way
Has taken our diversity
Plants natural genome
Genetically modified, organic no more
Infecting, irreversible turned our seed
Unrecognized, sterile, stale,
Yet to talking heads playing games
A patent awaits the honeybees bum
To take from the farmer lands that his hands
Have nurtured and worked,
Life giving no more.
/end lawsuit

Amidst The Sea (day 2410)

To be a small boat putting by
Through inner harbor’s gait,
Would be like worker bees ashore
Minding to the hive.
And when nighttime should come at last
Finding a dock to rest,
One could only hope to find
Night life to pass the time.
For if my lonely soul could cry,
A sputtering on I would go,
To and fro, back and forth
A small boat amidst the sea.

Ode to a Honey Bee (day 2221)

Your lazy way fills up my mind
With honey bags full and plump
So heavy that your wandering
Feels delightfully like a wobbly jaunt
Hand in hand again.
It reminds me of days spent
Lounging in floral gardens,
Where I, too, did float about
From yellow, pink, and purple too
Into deep recesses of sacred jewels.
You dance in front of my very eyes
Miraculasly grabbing hold of flowers
So delicate looking and forever blooming
Scarcely able to hold your weight,
Now stuffed so full with sweet gold
And off to home you go.

Summer Camp (day 1905)

Summer camp is building up
Splashing heard all day
Toadstool hunts and little bugs
Campfire wood, evermore.

“Cannonball” yelled at every chance
Footsteps on the dock
Drying towel potato salad
Midnight on the run!

But lazily as a summer bee
All fun will come to end
Like worker ants in a line
Arrows shall be carried home.

Summer Fun (day 1794)

Have you ever wondered if
The robins song
Was sung without a name
Or if the swallow called out
Alone
To see who could share some fun.
As I watch a butterfly
Waltz about the meadow
I wonder if it’s off somewhere
Or just strolling the neighborhood.
And would this bee
Just rather be
Alone in a little burrough,
Or soaking in the days last rays
Amidst summer’s everlasting sun.