This Time Was To Come (day 703)

I feel a cry, deep beneath layers of cautious steps
One that reaches the far edges of this kingdom
From the cold North where land thaws and turns green
To the tropical South and it’s large brightly feathered birds

It’s challenging, this feeling within
It signals growth, time of change
Pushing my knowledge beyond what I feel
Into real struggles; present ordeals

I did not know this day was to come
This formidable passage of now into future
That grabs at my dreams and eats at my heart
I did not know that this time would come

Thorny Patches and Sun Bleached Logs (day 695)

Gulls call out to friends floating away
Upon tides pushing this way and that
Messy streams of salty water
Crisscross a retreating ocean’s exposé
Thick stalks of grass bloat the shoreline
That’s overwhelmed by sun bleached logs
Spewed upon the edges
As if laid there in organized inventory
While off in the distance a black tornado of birds
Hover around the surface searching
Blackbirds sing from thorny blackberry patches
That separates green from thousands of shades of grey
Mimicking darkening clouds rolling above
Ready to send droplets propelled by gravity
But off in the distance, upon the horizon
Voluptuous and impressive clouds
Change from glaring white to navy blue
Interspersed with teal shades of open sky
And a darkened silhouette of a distant island
Looms ominously like the jetty
That breaks the horizon line into greys and sky blues

Iona Beach

Earth as We Know It (day 636)

Apocalyptic desires spread across the landscape into horizons of jubilant joy, needlessly wandering about the edges in a vignetted blur of reason and sacrifice.

All that was known then suddenly became lost, like the vision from the eyes when consciousness is shifted into the willing arms of a sideways glance, a flicker at the edges of a landscape.

Energy begins to build with anticipation and excitement; roaming birds know this feeling well, they make love to the feeling on sunny days when warm winds blow fresh scents of motherly creations of earth upon their nest.

Laying absentmindedness at the door, whipper-whisps swap the mind to the present, dust floats up from the awoken floorboards hitting sunlight that delights lovers, playing with time and space it’s exchange grows with anticipation into one final exultant gasp and releases such a tremor the rest fall into a deep dark sleep.

Deep within runs wild, from all except the grumpy gnome, the soldier of harbouring resentment, who scowls at all life and pushes away forthcoming joys to create for himself the place he never wished he had.

Alongside this dwelling of darkness runs a brook wild, over mossy rocks, through gnarled trees, past covered bridges, and out into the pussy willows and lily pads.

Taking away with it, from upstream down to the lowlands, all hate, love, magic, potions, desires, misspent emotions, and dying flowers into a new season of germination where new things shall sprout and grow with playful arches of sun that float onwards and away as the magical fruits of earth we know.

If Would Play (day 592)

If there were stars that I looked upon daily
Would you flounder them into a field full of wheat?
If clouds floated hither, where you and I’d gather
Would the sun break them free from their plight?
If all the birds sang on from their high up perches
Would the music reach our ears as we strolled?
If the path at our feet turned from soft grass to dirt
Would we still walk hand in hand through the trees?
If I looked in your eyes and whispered into your ear
Would the stars keep us together every night?

Sailing (day 387)

High up upon the alpine peaks
Like birds
Silently gliding through space
Every little whip of air sent

Outstretched hands pull tighter
The rope
Holding together the loose bits
Knit into one solid piece of fabric

Pixies (day 380)

I dance the dance of a thousand maidens
Through the woods and flat lands with flowers in my hair
I’ve grown accustomed to the birds and the bees
Around here there is no more sadness

And with the ides of seasons that come
The winds they carry all messages I hear
Of love, of song, of fairy tales I deluge
Merry making I do wherever I do roam

Late at night when I rest my head upon the feathers
The animals all around settle too
We breathe a collective sigh and remember the sky
Stars, full of life, watching over