New strewn branches
Spiderwebs
Familiar roots
Tag: branch
Calling (day 2096)
This is my calling
Run through the forest
Trails along the way
Lead me home, sometimes.
Forage some berries
Discover a toadstool
Help a little frog
Along its merry way.
Some paths grow narrow
Hardly able to walk
A step on a branch
Scares the whole flock.
And then open up
To a wide open meadow
Dig up some roots
Soil to my soul.
This is my calling
Deep winter bark
Roots on my threshold
Home in the end.
Filled (day 1739)
A long lifeless walk
Held my hand
As I began
My casually glancing around
With two by two
And one after you
In a game cat jumped over the moon.
Twigs and branches
And needles doing dances
For the stoop of my boot.
Till the hour I find
A guest on my mind,
I’ll return to an abode filled with warmth.
Rhythmic As A Whitecap (day 1655)
Linger about a moment
Of a whitecap
Rhythmically drifting by;
One thousand times
Repeated
Upon my exhale
As dull branches
Sweep barren grounds
Of my soul
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
Röbert Mönchkin (day 778)
It isn’t that the seasons take away my pleasures I bask in in the summer; running carelessly about the fences and jumping from branch to branch. No.
It isn’t the shade from the sun, nor the darkest of clouds that hover over horizons I see from the top of these branches in this place I call home. No.
It isn’t the infestation of caterpillars that slither their way into every single crevice I’ve ever held dear to me and my family, eating away the lush green leaves that paint the exterior of my home. No.
It isn’t the bears the rummage in my little piles of stores I’ve secured away for winter lengths, nor the beavers that take my home for theirs. No.
It’s that blasted dog that jumps every single time he sees me, barreling away at the highest speeds to bark me all the way up the tree.
But, I suppose that I do provoke him with my constant chattering and taunting…
Röbert can be purchased here.